#ignore how i’m late and this stream was days ago

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

Second Chance - Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve tried to get you back, but it's not always easy to gain back the trust one loses.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Warning: Angsts, like kind of a lot of it, injured character, but nobody dies. A bit of fluff with a happy ending.

Words: 9 224

AN: So, sweet anon asked about part two of Enough is Enough, and well, why the hell no :) I feel like shit (being sick isn't fun), so apologies x4 for any mistakes. My brain isn't braining...

Steve didn’t give up.

Steve’s first apology came in the form of flowers.

They arrived at the coffee shop just as you were opening. A delivery driver handed you the bouquet—a lush arrangement of white roses and baby’s breath, wrapped in soft tissue paper. For a moment, you just stared at them, the scent of fresh blossoms mingling with the familiar aroma of coffee beans. The card nestled within the bouquet bore only three words: I’m so sorry.

Your chest tightened. You didn’t have to wonder who sent them.

“Who’s the secret admirer?” your coworker teased, grinning as she wiped down the counter.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you set the bouquet aside, trying to push down the lump rising in your throat. It was a beautiful gesture—one you might have cherished once—but now it felt hollow.

The flowers kept coming. Every morning, a new arrangement would appear. Daisies, tulips, sunflowers. Each accompanied by a note in Steve’s handwriting: I miss you. I love you. Let me fix this.

You didn’t know how to feel. Part of you wanted to believe him, to give him the chance to make things right. But another part of you—the part still raw and aching—refused.

Then he started showing up.

The first time, you nearly dropped the coffee pot in your hand. He stood outside the shop, leaning against the lamppost with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. He looked different—tired, almost haunted, as though the weight of your absence was something physical he carried with him.

You ignored him, focusing on your customers, but you could feel his presence like a shadow just beyond the glass. When you finally closed the shop, he was still there.

He said your name softly as you stepped outside, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t stop walking.

“Please,” he called after you, his tone desperate. “Just give me a chance to talk.”

You turned back, your jaw clenched. “Why now, Steve? Why couldn’t you talk to me when it mattered?”

His face crumpled, and for a brief moment, you felt a pang of guilt. But you shook it off and kept walking.

It didn’t deter him. Steve came back the next day, and the day after that, always waiting silently as you worked. It wasn’t until a week later that you finally confronted him.

“What do you want from me, Steve?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended.

His blue eyes searched yours, filled with a vulnerability you hadn’t seen in months. “I want to make this right,” he said, his voice breaking. “I love you. I never stopped. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening with conflicting emotions. He looked so sincere, so heartbroken, that for a moment, you almost believed him. Almost.

“It’s too late,” you said finally, your voice barely audible. “You can’t fix this. I don’t trust you anymore.”

The pain in his eyes was like a physical blow, but you didn’t let it show. You turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, defeated.

But the truth was, you weren’t as strong as you seemed. Every step away from him felt like ripping a piece of yourself apart. By the time you got home, you were shaking, tears streaming down your face as you collapsed onto the couch.

You loved him. God, you still loved him. But love wasn’t enough anymore.

***

The days blurred together after that.

You went through the motions of your life—opening the coffee shop each morning, smiling at customers, making small talk with your coworkers—but it all felt mechanical, like a script you had memorized long ago. The warmth and joy that once fueled you were gone, replaced by an empty numbness you couldn’t seem to shake.

Nights were the worst.

Sleep eluded you, no matter how many hours you spent staring at the ceiling or tossing and turning under your blankets. The bed felt too big, too cold without him there. You hated yourself for missing him, for craving the comfort of his arms even after everything he’d done. But the longing wasn’t something you could control.

It wasn’t just the nights, though. Little things kept sneaking up on you, tearing at the fragile stitches holding you together.

The sight of his favorite mug on your kitchen counter. The book he’d borrowed but never finished, still sitting on your nightstand. The faint scent of his cologne that lingered on your favorite sweater, no matter how many times you washed it.

You tried to distract yourself, but nothing worked. Books, once your solace, couldn’t hold your attention. The words blurred together, and you’d find yourself reading the same sentence over and over without absorbing a single word.

Your friends noticed.

“You need to eat more,” one of them said during a group dinner you’d been forced to attend. She pushed a plate of pasta toward you, her brow furrowed with concern. “You look like you’ve lost weight.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, picking at the food with a fork.

Kat wasn’t buying it. She leaned across the table, her sharp blue eyes cutting through your defenses. “You’re not fine. And we’re not going to pretend otherwise.”

Her words hit harder than you expected, and you had to blink back the sting of tears.

Steve’s friends noticed too. Sam popped into the coffee shop one morning, leaning casually against the counter as you took his order.

“You’re not sleeping,” he said matter-of-factly, his tone laced with concern.

You forced a smile, trying to keep your voice light. “Busy days, you know how it is.”

He didn’t press you further, but the look he gave you lingered long after he left.

***

The worst was when Steve came back.

It was late in the evening, just before closing, when he walked into the shop. You froze behind the counter, your heart leaping into your throat at the sight of him.

He looked just as broken as you felt. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was mussed like he’d been running his hands through it in frustration. He lingered near the entrance, as if unsure whether he was welcome.

“Hi,” he said softly, his voice hesitant.

You gripped the edge of the counter, steadying yourself. “We’re about to close.”

“I know,” he said, his hands fidgeting nervously at his sides. “I just… I wanted to see you.”

You turned away, pretending to busy yourself with cleaning up. “You shouldn’t be here, Steve.”

“Please,” he said, stepping closer. “Just give me five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

You shook your head, your chest tightening painfully. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you,” he said, his voice breaking. “And because I can’t stand knowing I hurt you like this.”

His words cracked something inside you, but you couldn’t let him see it. “You need to leave,” you said firmly, refusing to meet his eyes.

For a moment, he hesitated, as if hoping you might change your mind. But when you didn’t, he nodded, his shoulders sagging with defeat.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry.”

You watched him go, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing in the empty shop. And then you broke.

You sank to the floor, tears streaming down your face as the weight of your grief crushed you.

You loved him. God, you still loved him.

But you didn’t know how to let yourself forgive him.

***

You didn’t expect to find Bucky Barnes on your doorstep.

It was a gray Saturday morning, and the porch floor creaked under your weight as you aimlessly swept away fallen leaves. When you opened the door and saw him standing there, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets and his blue-gray eyes watching you carefully, you froze.

“Bucky?”

“Hey,” he said, his tone casual, though his expression betrayed a flicker of hesitation. “Mind if I come in?”

You hesitated. This was Steve’s best friend. Seeing him felt like reopening wounds that you’d been trying desperately to let heal. But there was no judgment in his gaze, no pressure—just concern. So, with a heavy sigh, you stepped aside and gestured for him to enter.

He stepped into the living room, glancing around like he was cataloging the space. You folded your arms, standing stiffly near the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, doll,” he teased, his lips quirking into a faint smirk.

“Bucky,” you said, your voice sharper now. “Why are you here?”

He sighed, the smirk fading. “I wanted to check on you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you said quickly. “I’m not with Steve anymore. There’s no obligation.”

He raised an eyebrow, his head tilting slightly as he leaned against the back of your couch. “Obligation? That’s not why I’m here, sweetheart. You’re my friend too. And whether or not you’re with Steve doesn’t change that.”

The softness in his tone made something crack inside you. You wanted to argue, to brush him off, but instead, you felt your defenses falter.

“Besides,” he continued with a wry grin, “someone’s gotta make sure you know not all men are idiots. Steve might be an amazing guy, but even amazing guys screw up sometimes.”

That last sentence hit you like a slap. You felt the tears coming before you could stop them, your vision blurring as all the emotions you’d been bottling up threatened to spill over. You turned away, trying to pull yourself together, but Bucky wasn’t having it.

“Hey,” he said gently, stepping closer. “Talk to me.”

That was all it took for the dam to break.

“I don’t know how to stop loving him,” you blurted, your voice trembling as the words spilled out in a rush.

Bucky froze, his expression softening as he watched the tears stream down your face. You sank onto the couch, your shoulders shaking, and he followed, sitting beside you without a word.

“I hate him for what he did,” you continued, your voice cracking. “I hate that he made me feel like I didn’t matter, like I was just… there. And now? Now he’s trying to fix it, like I’m supposed to just forget everything and let him back in.”

Bucky listened silently, his hands clasped together as you poured your heart out.

“It feels like a slap in the face,” you said, your chest heaving with each breath. “Like he thinks flowers and apologies will erase months of feeling invisible. I hate him for that. But more than anything, I hate that I still love him.”

You buried your face in your hands, your voice muffled as you added, “I don’t want to love him anymore. I want it to stop, Bucky. I want it all to stop.”

The room was quiet for a long moment. Then, Bucky sighed, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

“Doll,” he said softly, “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but loving him isn’t something to hate yourself for. Steve… he’s a complicated guy. He doesn’t always get things right, but I promise you, he loves you. More than you know.”

You shook your head, your voice shaking. “If he loved me so much, why did he treat me like that? Why did he make me feel like I didn’t matter?”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening. “You’re right. He screwed up. Big time. But… he’s been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for years. It doesn’t excuse how he hurt you, but I’ve seen him lately, and he’s a wreck without you.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, your tears blurring the intensity in his gaze.

“He’s not good at showing it,” Bucky continued, “but he’s an amazing guy. I’ve known him my whole life, and I’ve seen him at his best and his worst. And I know he’ll never stop trying to make this right. The question is… would you ever let him? What would it take for you to let him back in?”

The weight of his words settled over you, heavy and unrelenting. You didn’t answer right away, your fingers gripping the hem of your shirt as you stared down at the floor.

“I don’t know,” you whispered finally. “I don’t know if I can. It’s like… every time I see him, I remember how much it hurt. And even if I wanted to try again, I don’t know if I’d ever trust him not to hurt me like that again.”

Bucky reached out, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “You don’t have to decide anything right now,” he said gently. “But whatever you choose, just know this: you deserve to be happy, sweetheart. Whether that’s with Steve or without him.”

You looked at him, searching his face for any trace of pity or judgment, but there was none. Just quiet understanding and unwavering support.

When he finally stood to leave, he gave you a small smile. “You’re stronger than you think,” he said, his voice steady. “And no matter what happens, I’m here. Steve or no Steve.”

You watched him go, his words echoing in your mind long after the door closed.

And for the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to wonder if maybe—just maybe—you could find a way forward.

***

The compound gym was almost empty, save for the quiet hum of machinery and the dull thud of fists meeting a punching bag. Steve Rogers stood at the far end of the room, his knuckles raw and his breathing ragged. He’d been at it for hours, his frustration and grief pouring into every swing, every strike. The bag swayed violently under the force of his hits, the chain creaking with each impact.

“You keep that up, and you’ll be patching the damn thing again,” Bucky’s voice rang out, casual and dry as ever, though the concern in it was unmistakable.

Steve paused mid-swing, the tension in his shoulders easing only slightly as he turned to see his best friend leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. Bucky’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes betrayed a softness Steve wasn’t sure he deserved.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked, his voice hoarse from hours of exertion.

“Figured I’d find you here,” Bucky replied, stepping into the gym. “Thought maybe you’d stop using that bag like it owes you money and actually talk to me.”

Steve sighed, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Not in the mood, Buck.”

“Well, tough,” Bucky shot back, grabbing a folding chair and dragging it noisily across the floor. He plopped it down unceremoniously a few feet away from Steve, crossing one ankle over his knee. “Because I just came from seeing her.”

The color drained from Steve’s face. He froze, his fists still clenched at his sides. “You… you saw her?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said evenly, watching his friend’s reaction carefully. “She didn’t slam the door in my face, so I’d say I’m doing better than you.”

Steve flinched, the weight of Bucky’s words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He turned away, his hands gripping the edges of the punching bag as he tried to steady himself. “How… how is she?”

Bucky hesitated. He’d seen the raw pain in your eyes, the tears you tried to hide, and he knew Steve wasn’t ready for the truth. But lying wouldn’t help either.

“She’s a mess, Steve,” Bucky said softly. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Steve let out a shaky breath, his head hanging low. “I did this to her,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I pushed her away, made her feel like she wasn’t enough. And now… now I don’t know how to fix it.”

Bucky stood, closing the distance between them. “Steve, look at me.”

Reluctantly, Steve turned, his eyes red and tired.

“She still loves you,” Bucky said firmly, his voice steady. “But she’s hurt, and she’s angry. And you can’t expect her to just forget all that because you’re showing up with flowers and apologies.”

“I know that,” Steve snapped, his voice breaking. “God, Buck, I know. But what else can I do? Every time I see her, it’s like she’s slipping further away, and I don’t know how to reach her anymore.”

Bucky’s gaze softened, and he placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You start by understanding that this isn’t about fixing things overnight. It’s about showing her that you’re willing to put in the work, no matter how long it takes. That you’re not just sorry—you’re ready to be better.”

Steve nodded, though the despair in his eyes didn’t fade. “She said she doesn’t trust me anymore.”

“Then earn it back,” Bucky said simply. “Show her that you’re not the same guy who hurt her. And for God’s sake, stop treating this like a battle you can win with brute force. You’re not fighting Hydra here, Steve. You’re fighting for her.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged, his head dropping into his hands. “I don’t even know if she wants me to try.”

Bucky crouched slightly, meeting Steve’s gaze head-on. “I asked her,” he said quietly.

Steve’s head shot up, his blue eyes wide. “What? What did she say?”

“She doesn’t know,” Bucky admitted. “She’s scared, Steve. Scared that if she lets you back in, you’ll hurt her again. And honestly? I don’t blame her.”

The words hit Steve like a blow, but he didn’t argue. He knew Bucky was right.

“She told me something else too,” Bucky continued, his voice softer now. “She said she doesn’t know how to stop loving you. And it’s killing her.”

Steve’s breath caught, his chest tightening painfully. “She… she said that?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. She loves you, Steve. But love isn’t enough—not after what you put her through. You have to show her that you’re not just saying the right things. You have to be the right man for her. The man she fell in love with.”

Steve closed his eyes, his mind racing with memories of you—the way you used to laugh, the way you’d look at him like he was your whole world. He’d taken that for granted, and now he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get it back.

“What if I can’t?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “What if I’ve already lost her?”

Bucky’s grip on his shoulder tightened. “You don’t get to give up, punk. Not on her, and not on yourself. You want her back? Then fight for her. And don’t stop until you’ve shown her that she’s worth everything.”

Steve swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion. “How? How do I even start?”

Bucky gave him a small, knowing smile. “Start by listening. By showing up—not just for her, but for the life she wants. Show her that she’s not a convenience, Steve. She’s the center of it all.”

Steve nodded slowly, the weight of Bucky’s words sinking in. He didn’t know if it would be enough, but he knew one thing for certain: he couldn’t give up on you. Not now. Not ever.

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve said quietly, his voice rough but sincere.

Bucky grinned, clapping him on the back. “Don’t thank me yet. You’ve got a hell of a road ahead of you.”

Steve nodded, determination flickering in his tired eyes. He didn’t know how long it would take or if he’d even succeed, but for you, he’d move mountains.

Because losing you wasn’t an option. And he’d spend the rest of his life proving it if that’s what it took.

***

Steve left the gym after his conversation with Bucky feeling drained but determined. His best friend’s words weighed on him, both a reminder of the man he wanted to be and the man he hadn’t been for you. He knew Bucky was right—this wasn’t a fight he could win with brute force or a quick apology. It would take time, patience, and a quiet kind of devotion that he’d never had to show before.

He didn’t expect you to forgive him overnight. He didn’t even expect you to notice what he was doing right away. But he had to start somewhere.

***

It was early morning when Steve pushed open the door to your coffee shop.

The familiar bell jingled above him, the sound stirring memories of quieter, happier times. You were behind the counter, moving with practiced ease as you worked the espresso machine. You didn’t see him at first, but when you turned, your eyes locked, and Steve felt the air shift.

“Morning,” he said, his voice soft, careful not to disrupt the fragile peace of the moment.

You blinked, your expression guarded. “Morning.”

“I’m here for coffee,” he said, stepping forward. “For the team.”

Your brow furrowed, skeptical. “The team sent you?”

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Not exactly. Thought I’d take my turn.”

You didn’t reply, but you turned back to the espresso machine, the hum of it filling the silence. Steve watched you work, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, and for a moment, he was struck by how natural this scene felt, even with the tension between you.

When you handed him the tray of drinks, your fingers brushed his briefly, and he saw the faintest flicker of something in your eyes—surprise, maybe, or something softer.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice warm but careful.

You didn’t answer, but you nodded, and he left without lingering, the bell jingling softly as the door swung shut behind him.

*

The next time he came, it was quieter. Midmorning, after the breakfast rush had died down, Steve appeared with a small brown paper bag in hand.

You were cleaning the counter, lost in thought, when his voice broke through the silence.

“You forget to eat when you’re busy,” he said simply, placing the bag on the counter.

You looked up, startled. “Steve…”

“It’s just breakfast,” he said, holding up a hand to forestall your protests. “Nothing more. Just thought you might need it.”

You hesitated, the words you wanted to say caught somewhere in your throat. Slowly, you opened the bag, the warm scent of eggs and bacon wafting up to meet you.

“From that diner you like,” he added, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Figured it was better than you skipping meals.”

You stared at the bag for a long moment before meeting his eyes. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know,” he said simply. “But I wanted to.”

He didn’t stay long, didn’t push for conversation. He just gave you a small nod and left, leaving you with breakfast and a strange, lingering warmth in your chest.

*

Natasha was relentless when it came to her movie nights, and somehow, you found yourself at the Tower despite your protests. The room was cozy, filled with the low murmur of conversation and the scent of popcorn. You settled into one corner of the couch, trying to ignore the way Steve’s presence tugged at the edges of your awareness.

When the opening credits began to roll, Steve appeared beside you, holding something in his hands.

“Here,” he said quietly, offering you a pair of thick woolen socks.

You frowned, confused. “What’s this?”

“Your feet get cold,” he said simply, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

You stared at him, your chest tightening, before reluctantly taking the socks. “Thanks,” you muttered, slipping them on.

He didn’t linger, didn’t push for more. But later, when the movie reached its tense climax, he handed you a steaming mug of hot chocolate—rich, creamy, with just the right amount of cinnamon.

“You don’t have to—” you started, but he cut you off with a small, knowing smile.

“You love hot chocolate after horror movies,” he said, his tone soft. “Figured you might want some.”

You took the mug, the warmth seeping into your hands, and for the first time that night, you let yourself relax.

*

The envelope was waiting for you in your mailbox, unassuming but carefully placed. Inside was a single ticket to the sold-out Broadway show you’d mentioned to Sam weeks ago.

The note tucked inside was brief, written in Steve’s familiar handwriting: Thought you’d like this. Hope it’s as good as you imagined.

You stared at the ticket for a long time, your heart aching with a mixture of gratitude and frustration. He remembered. Of course, he remembered.

You told yourself it didn’t matter, that it was just a kind gesture, but deep down, it chipped away at the walls you’d built around your heart.

*

The night your car broke down was cold and quiet, the kind of night that made the world feel vast and lonely. You sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the lifeless dashboard, your breath fogging up the glass as you fought the urge to cry.

You tried calling a few friends, but no one answered. Finally, with trembling fingers, you dialed the one number you swore you wouldn’t.

“Sweetheart?” Steve’s voice came through the line, steady and concerned.

“My car won’t start,” you said softly, ignoring the pet name, hating how small your voice sounded.

“Where are you?”

You told him, and he didn’t hesitate. “Stay there. I’m on my way.”

When his truck pulled up beside you, he climbed out without a word, his breath misting in the cold air as he checked under your hood. His movements were sure and efficient, his presence steadying.

“Alternator’s shot,” he said finally, closing the hood. “I’ll take you home.”

You hesitated, your pride warring with your gratitude, but the freezing air made the decision for you.

The drive was quiet, the heater humming softly as Steve navigated the empty streets. He didn’t pry, didn’t try to fill the silence with unnecessary words. He just… drove.

When you woke up the next morning, your car was back in its usual spot. The engine purred like new when you started it, and a small note was taped to the dashboard: Shouldn’t give you trouble anymore. Call me if it does.

*

Each gesture was small, unassuming. Steve never pushed, never demanded more than you were willing to give. He just… showed up, quietly and consistently, letting his actions speak louder than words ever could.

And slowly, despite yourself, you began to notice.

***

Three months had passed since the breakup.

You wouldn’t say things had gone back to normal—far from it—but something had undeniably shifted between you and Steve. His quiet persistence, the way he showed up without pushing or demanding anything from you, had started to chip away at the walls you’d built around your heart.

At first, your conversations were stiff and polite, nothing more than a few sentences exchanged when he stopped by the coffee shop or brought you breakfast. But as the weeks went by, those moments grew longer, softer. He’d ask about your day, about the books you were reading, or the things you enjoyed, and you found yourself answering more openly. It wasn’t quite like before, but it was closer to the first moments of your relationship, back when everything had been new and uncomplicated.

Still, there was a voice in the back of your mind that wouldn’t let you forget. A quiet, insistent whisper that reminded you of how he’d hurt you, how he’d pushed you aside and made you feel invisible.

That voice grew louder the day he asked you to talk.

***

It was late afternoon, the golden light of the setting sun filtering through the windows of the coffee shop as you wiped down the counter. The shop was quiet, the usual morning and lunch rushes long gone, leaving you with only the hum of the espresso machine and the soft clatter of dishes.

The sound of the bell above the door caught your attention, and when you looked up, Steve was there.

He’d been coming in more often lately, not just to pick up coffee for the team but to see you, to talk to you. This time, though, something about the way he stood—his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his shoulders slightly hunched—told you this wasn’t just a casual visit.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice careful as he approached the counter.

“Hey,” you replied, setting the towel aside.

“Do you have a minute?” he asked, glancing around at the empty shop. “I mean… can we talk?”

You hesitated, your stomach twisting. The vulnerability in his expression was disarming, but that voice in the back of your mind warned you to tread carefully. Still, you nodded, gesturing toward one of the empty tables.

Steve followed you, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from you. For a moment, he said nothing, his hands clasped tightly on the table as he stared down at them. You waited, your heart thudding quietly in your chest as the silence stretched between you.

Finally, he took a deep breath and looked up, his blue eyes meeting yours.

“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” he began, his voice low but steady. “About what I should say. How I should say it. And the truth is… there’s no easy way to do this. So I’m just going to be honest.”

You nodded, your throat tightening as you braced yourself for whatever was coming.

“I screwed up,” he said, the words heavy with regret. “I let you down in a way I never should have. And I’ve been trying to figure out why—why I acted the way I did, why I pushed you away when you were the best thing in my life.”

His hands tightened into fists, his knuckles whitening as he struggled to find the right words. “I think… I think I was scared. Scared of not being enough for you, scared of dragging you into everything that comes with being me. The missions, the stress, the weight of it all—I didn’t want to burden you with that.”

Your brow furrowed, confusion and frustration bubbling to the surface. “So you decided to ignore me instead? To shut me out?”

“I know,” he said quickly, his voice breaking slightly. “I know it doesn’t make sense. It was selfish and stupid, and I wasn’t thinking about how it would make you feel. I just… I thought if I kept it to myself, if I didn’t tell you about everything that was going on, I could protect you from it. But all I did was hurt you.”

His eyes glistened, and he looked away, swallowing hard. “I’ll never forgive myself for that. For making you feel like you weren’t enough when you were everything to me.”

The raw emotion in his voice made your chest ache, but the wounds he’d left were still fresh, still tender.

“Steve…” you began, your voice trembling, “you hurt me more than anyone ever has. Do you know that?”

He flinched, his jaw tightening, but he nodded.

“I spent weeks wondering what I did wrong,” you continued, your words spilling out in a rush. “I kept asking myself why I wasn’t good enough for you, why I wasn’t worth your time or your attention. And then, when you finally started trying again, it felt like a slap in the face. Like you thought a few kind gestures could erase everything you put me through.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you fought to keep your voice steady. “I wanted so badly to be enough for you, Steve. That’s all I ever wanted. Just to be enough.”

“You were,” he said quickly, his voice cracking. “You are. God, you’re more than enough. I was the one who wasn’t. I didn’t know how to handle it—how to be the man you deserved—and I let that fear control me. But I swear to you, I see it now. I see what I lost because of it.”

He leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “I know I don’t deserve another chance. I know I might have ruined the best thing that ever happened to me. But if there’s anything—anything—I can do to change your mind, tell me. I’ll do it. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I can be better, that I can be the man you need me to be.”

His voice dropped, barely more than a whisper. “I just need to know if there’s any part of you that still believes in us.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding as the weight of his words settled over you. The pain, the anger, the love—all of it swirled together in a storm of emotion that left you speechless.

Finally, you let out a shaky breath, your voice trembling as you said, “I don’t know, Steve. I don’t know if I can trust you again. I don’t know if I can forget how much it hurt.”

His face crumpled, but he nodded, accepting your words without argument.

“But…” you continued, your voice softer now, “I can’t pretend I don’t still feel something for you. I can’t pretend I don’t still love you.”

His eyes widened, hope flickering in their depths.

“That doesn’t mean we can go back to how things were,” you said quickly, your tone firm. “If we’re going to try… if we’re going to even think about trying, it has to be different. You have to be honest with me, Steve. About everything.”

“I will,” he said immediately, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear, I will.”

You nodded, your throat tight with the weight of what you’d just said. It wasn’t forgiveness—not yet—but it was something. A small step toward rebuilding what had been broken.

And as Steve reached out, his hand brushing against yours, you let yourself hope—for the first time in months—that maybe, just maybe, it was a step worth taking.

***

It had been a week since the conversation with Steve, and your emotions were in turmoil. You felt caught between the raw pain of the past and the cautious hope of what could be. His words haunted you—his apologies, his promises, the way his voice had cracked when he told you how much he still cared.

You needed clarity, and there was only one person who could give you the no-nonsense advice you desperately needed: Natasha.

She arrived at your place that evening, a takeout bag in hand, and didn’t waste a second settling herself at your kitchen table. Her sharp green eyes studied you as you sat down across from her, picking at the noodles she’d brought for you.

“All right,” she said, breaking the silence. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Steve,” you admitted, your voice soft.

Natasha leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable. “What about him?”

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the table. “We talked. Really talked. He told me everything—why he shut me out, how he felt, all of it. He apologized for everything and… I believe him, Nat. I really do.”

“But?” she prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“But I don’t know if I can trust him again,” you confessed, your throat tightening. “I don’t know if I can let myself go through that again. He hurt me so much, Nat. How do I just move past that?”

Natasha studied you for a moment, her gaze piercing. “Let me ask you something,” she said finally. “If you didn’t still love him, if you didn’t still want something with him deep down, would we even be having this conversation right now?”

You frowned, her words hitting you hard. “What do you mean?”

“It’s been three months,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “If you were done with him, if you really didn’t care anymore, you’d have moved on by now. You wouldn’t still be here, agonizing over whether to give him another chance.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came. She wasn’t wrong, and deep down, you knew it.

“I’m not saying you have to forgive him tomorrow or even next week,” Natasha continued, leaning forward. “But if there’s still a part of you that wants to believe in him, don’t ignore that. You owe it to yourself to figure out what you really want. Not what you’re afraid of, not what you think you should do. What you want.”

Her words lingered long after she left, a quiet truth that refused to be ignored.

***

At the same time, Steve was grappling with his own uncertainty.

He sat in the Tower’s lounge, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee as he stared out the window. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about your conversation, about the raw pain in your voice when you told him how much he’d hurt you.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice broke through his thoughts, and Steve turned to see both Sam and Bucky entering the room. They exchanged a look before sitting down on either side of him.

“You’ve been brooding,” Sam said bluntly. “What’s going on?”

Steve sighed, setting his mug down on the coffee table. “It’s her,” he admitted.

“Figured,” Bucky said, leaning back in his chair. “What happened?”

“I talked to her,” Steve said. “Told her everything—how I felt, why I shut her out. I apologized for all of it.”

“And?” Sam prompted.

“She said she doesn’t know if she can trust me again,” Steve said quietly, his voice heavy with regret. “But she also said she still loves me. I don’t know what to do with that, Sam. I don’t know how to make it right.”

Sam leaned forward, his expression serious. “Look, man, love isn’t always enough. Not when there’s hurt involved. If she doesn’t trust you right now, that’s on you to fix. You can’t just expect her to forgive and forget because you feel bad about it.”

“I know that,” Steve said quickly, his jaw tightening. “That’s why I’m here. I don’t want to mess this up again. I need to figure out how to show her that I’m serious without overwhelming her.”

Bucky gave him a long, measured look. “You’ve been trying,” he said finally. “We’ve all seen it—the little things you’ve been doing. But if you’re asking me, you’re not going to fix this by tiptoeing around her. You’ve got to be honest, Rogers. If you want her back, you need to let her see all of you. The good, the bad, and the stuff you think she won’t want to deal with.”

Steve frowned, his gaze dropping to the floor. “What if she doesn’t want to deal with it?”

“Then she doesn’t,” Bucky said simply. “But if you hold back, you’re not giving her the chance to decide for herself. And that’s not fair to either of you.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “You’ve got to let her see that you’re not just saying the right things, Steve. You’ve got to show her. But don’t make it about fixing things fast. Healing takes time, for both of you.”

Steve exhaled slowly, the weight of their words settling over him. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank us yet,” Sam said with a grin. “You’ve got a long road ahead of you, Cap.”

***

Steve spent the next few days thinking about their advice. He’d been so focused on not pushing you, on giving you space, that he hadn’t realized he might be holding back too much.

When he saw you next, it was at the coffee shop, just as you were closing up for the day. He hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, his heart pounding.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice breaking the quiet.

You looked up, surprise flickering across your face. “Hey.”

“Do you have a minute?” he asked.

You nodded slowly, setting down the rag you’d been using to clean the counter. “Sure.”

He gestured toward one of the empty tables, and you followed him, sitting down across from him. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you like a fragile thread.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Steve began, his voice steady but low. “About how much I hurt you, how I made you feel like you weren’t enough. And you were right. I let you down in ways I’ll never forgive myself for.”

Your throat tightened, but you stayed silent, letting him continue.

“I’ve spent so much time trying to fix things in small ways, trying to show you that I’m serious,” he said. “But I don’t think I’ve been honest enough with you. I don’t think I’ve let you see how much this has been tearing me apart.”

His hands tightened into fists on the table, his knuckles white. “I don’t want to overwhelm you or push you, but I can’t hold this back anymore. I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I can be the man you deserve.”

His voice cracked, and for the first time, you saw tears in his eyes. “If there’s anything—anything—I can do to earn your trust again, tell me. Because losing you would be the biggest mistake of my life.”

Your own eyes burned with tears, the raw honesty in his words cutting through the walls you’d built around your heart. For the first time, you saw not just the man who’d hurt you but the man who was willing to fight for you, flaws and all.

You didn’t have an answer for him—not yet. But as you reached across the table and took his hand, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you were ready to start finding one.

***

You were closing up the coffee shop when your phone buzzed. The message was from Natasha. That alone was unusual—Nat rarely texted without reason. You pulled your phone out, unlocking it with a swipe of your thumb.

The words on the screen made your blood run cold: We’ve lost contact with Steve and Bucky.

Your breath caught, and the phone nearly slipped from your trembling hands. For a moment, everything around you blurred—the soft hum of the espresso machine, the faint chatter of pedestrians outside, the smell of coffee beans—all of it faded into the background.

You didn’t think, didn’t even register dropping the rag you’d been using to clean the counter. Your hands shook as you locked the doors, fumbling with the keys before rushing to your car.

The drive to the Tower was a haze, your chest tight with panic as Natasha’s words repeated in your mind. You knew Steve went on dangerous missions. It was part of who he was. But something about those words—lost contact—made this time feel different.

***

By the time you arrived at the Tower, your heart was pounding so hard you thought it might break through your ribcage. The elevator ride felt like an eternity, each floor passing with agonizing slowness. When the doors finally slid open, you practically ran into the common room, where Natasha and Sam were already waiting.

“What happened?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended.

Natasha turned toward you, her expression calm but her eyes betraying her concern. “They were on a mission. Everything was going according to plan, but then we lost contact about three hours ago. We’ve been trying to re-establish communication, but there’s been no response.”

Three hours. That might as well have been three days.

“What do you mean ‘lost contact’?” you pressed, your voice rising. “How does that even happen?”

“It could be anything,” Sam said, his tone soothing but cautious. “Jammed signals, a misstep in the mission. We don’t know yet.”

You stared at them, your breathing shallow, your mind racing with every worst-case scenario imaginable. “So they could be…”

“They’re not,” Natasha said firmly, cutting you off. Her voice was sharp, but there was a softness in her gaze. “Steve and Bucky have been in worse situations than this. They’ll find a way to get back to us.”

Sam nodded in agreement, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. “They’re two of the toughest guys I know,” he said. “If anyone can make it out of this, it’s them.”

You wanted to believe them, but the fear in your chest refused to let go. You sank into one of the chairs, your hands gripping the armrests so tightly that your knuckles turned white.

The minutes dragged by like hours, the silence in the room heavy and oppressive. Natasha and Sam tried to make conversation, to keep you distracted, but you barely registered their words. Your mind was too consumed by the thought of what could happen—of what might have already happened.

***

When Natasha’s phone finally buzzed, the sound cut through the quiet like a gunshot. She snatched it up, her sharp gaze scanning the screen. Relief flickered across her face as she read aloud:

“It’s from Steve. They’re on their way back, but a medic is necessary.”

Your heart seized, a mixture of relief and panic coursing through you. “Who’s hurt?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“He didn’t say,” Natasha replied, her lips pressing into a thin line.

You tried to steady your breathing, but the knot in your chest refused to loosen. You told yourself it didn’t matter who was hurt—they were alive, and they were coming back. But the not knowing gnawed at you, the fear for Steve settling deep in your bones.

No one told Steve you were here, and maybe that was for the best. But as you sat there, waiting for the jet to arrive, you realized just how fragile everything felt. The past few months flashed through your mind—all the moments of doubt, the anger, the hesitation—and for the first time, they seemed so small. In the grand scheme of things, you could have lost Steve today. That thought terrified you more than anything else.

***

The sound of the jet’s engines rumbling low overhead pulled you out of your thoughts. You stood with Natasha and Sam, your heart pounding as the aircraft touched down on the Tower’s private landing pad.

The ramp lowered slowly, and the first thing you saw was Steve, his arm slung around Bucky to help him walk. Bucky looked pale, his arm hanging limp at his side, his face tight with pain. Medics rushed forward to meet him, but your eyes were locked on Steve.

He didn’t look much better than Bucky. His shirt was torn, streaked with dirt and blood, and his face bore a fresh collection of cuts and bruises. His shoulders sagged under the weight of exhaustion, his steps slow and measured.

But when his eyes found yours, he smiled.

Even battered and bloodied, he’d never looked more handsome. His beard, grown in over the time he’d been away, gave him a rugged edge, and his blue eyes still held that quiet strength you’d always admired.

The moment your gaze met his, something in you broke. You ran to him, barely aware of your surroundings, and threw your arms around him.

“Steve,” you sobbed, burying your face in his chest. His shirt was rough against your skin, damp with sweat and blood, but you didn’t care. “I was so scared. I thought… I thought I might lose you.”

His arms wrapped around you tightly, his grip strong despite his obvious exhaustion. “I’m okay,” he murmured, his voice soft but steady. “I’m here.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, tears streaming down your face. “You have to be more careful,” you said, your voice trembling. “You can’t… you can’t do this to me, Steve.”

His expression softened, and he reached up to brush a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What happened?” you asked, your voice cracking. “What went wrong?”

To your surprise, Steve didn’t hesitate. He guided you to a quieter corner, his hand resting lightly on your back, and began to explain.

“The mission was supposed to be straightforward,” he said, his voice low but steady. “But things went sideways fast. There were more hostiles than we anticipated, and Bucky got hit—bad. I couldn’t leave him behind, so I…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

“You carried him out,” you finished, your throat tightening.

Steve nodded, his eyes meeting yours. “I wasn’t going to leave him, no matter what.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they weren’t just from fear. They were from the overwhelming realization of who Steve truly was—the man who would sacrifice everything for the people he cared about.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice softer now. “I won’t make that mistake again. And if you’re willing to listen, I’ll tell you everything—about the missions, about what’s going on with me. No more shutting you out.”

You stared at him, your chest tight with a mixture of love and fear and hope. Slowly, you nodded. “I’m listening,” you said.

And as he began to speak, you felt the cracks in your heart begin to mend, one word at a time.

***

Steve stayed with you after the medics whisked Bucky away to the infirmary. He’d insisted Bucky was in good hands, though you could see the guilt still lingering in his eyes. You sat together in one of the quieter rooms in the Tower, the tension from the mission still clinging to him like a second skin.

Despite his exhaustion, he refused to let go of your hand.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as you sat beside him. “I know it’s late.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you replied, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

He gave you a small, tired smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re too good to me.”

You shook your head, squeezing his hand. “No, Steve. I’m just—” You paused, searching for the right words. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging as the adrenaline that had sustained him through the mission began to fade. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?”

“For everything,” he replied, meeting your gaze with a vulnerability that left you breathless. “For scaring you, for shutting you out before… for making you feel like you weren’t enough. I know I’ve said it before, but I need you to know I mean it.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity. For a long moment, you didn’t respond, your chest tight as you tried to process the enormity of what he was saying.

“I was so scared today,” you admitted finally, your voice trembling. “When Nat texted me, when we didn’t know if you were okay… it was like the ground had been ripped out from under me.” You swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “I realized then how stupid these past few months have been. I was so caught up in my own hurt, my own doubts, that I didn’t see what we were losing.”

Steve’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his blue eyes locked on yours. “You weren’t wrong to feel that way,” he said softly. “You had every right to be hurt, to doubt me. I earned that. But I don’t want to lose you, baby. Not now. Not ever.”

His words broke something inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his.

“Don’t you dare scare me like that again,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice steady and resolute.

***

The days following the mission passed in a haze of quiet moments and tentative steps forward. Steve stayed at the Tower to help Bucky recover, but he checked in with you constantly. Sometimes it was a quick text—How are you? Did you eat today?—and sometimes it was a phone call that lasted longer than either of you expected.

You visited the Tower often, bringing Bucky some of his favorite snacks and sitting with him while Steve caught up on reports. Bucky teased you relentlessly, of course, his dry humor cutting through the tension in ways only he could manage.

“So,” he said one afternoon, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “When are you two going to stop tiptoeing around and just admit you’re back together?”

You nearly choked on your coffee. “We’re not—”

“Sure,” Bucky interrupted, smirking. “And I’m the King of Wakanda.”

Steve, who had just entered the room, raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, glaring at Bucky.

“Just pointing out the obvious,” Bucky said with a shrug, earning himself an eye-roll from both you and Steve.

Despite his teasing, Bucky’s words stayed with you. He wasn’t entirely wrong. The way you and Steve interacted had changed since the mission. There was a closeness now, a sense of trust that hadn’t been there before.

***

One evening, Steve invited you to dinner at the Tower. He didn’t call it a date, and you didn’t press him on it, but there was something deliberate about the way he’d set the table, the candles he’d lit, the care he’d taken with every detail.

The two of you sat across from each other, the soft glow of the candles casting warm light over his face. For a while, you just talked—about work, about Bucky’s recovery, about the books you’d been reading. The conversation flowed easily, the tension that had once lingered between you finally gone.

At one point, Steve leaned back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said,” he began, his voice steady but quiet. “About how scared you were. How I need to be more careful.”

You frowned slightly. “Steve, I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty. I know your work is dangerous. I’ve always known that.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “But you were right. I can’t keep doing this—not without being honest with you about what’s going on. If I’m asking you to be part of my life, I need to make sure you feel like you’re part of it.”

His words sent a warmth through your chest, a feeling of being truly seen and valued. “I appreciate that,” you said softly.

Steve smiled, and for the first time in weeks, it felt like everything between you was falling into place.

***

As the night wore on, the conversation grew quieter, more intimate. Steve reached across the table, his hand brushing yours.

“I know we can’t go back to how things were before,” he said, his voice low but firm. “But I think we can build something better. Something stronger. If you’ll let me.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. There was no hesitation in his gaze, no doubt. Just quiet determination and a love that felt as steady and unshakable as the man himself.

“I want that too,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smile widened, and for the first time in months, you felt the weight in your chest begin to lift.

It wasn’t a perfect ending. There were still things to work through, still scars to heal. But as Steve reached for your hand, his grip warm and sure, you knew you were ready to take the next step—together.

[saturns-space]

minecraft minecraft minecraft minecraft minecraft minecraft minecraft minecraft minecraft minecraft

[dewdropdinosaur]

Kinktober Day 24: Somnophilia

Summary: Silco pushed open the creaking door of his apartment, the familiar scent of damp wood and laundry powder mingling with the faint aroma of your perfume.There you lay, a soft silhouette against the rumpled sheets. Your night gown rode high on your thighs, highlighting your soft and supple body to his vision. The material did little to hide anything from his gaze, you had been waiting his return. It was not lost on him that his lifestyle led to a lack of moments for intimacy, and yet here you were, pliant and pretty all for him. How tempting… Warnings: P in V sex, fingering, somnophilia, reader has a vagina, cum, etc. MNDI, 18+. You’re responsible for your own media consumption.  Kinktober Mention of the Day: @ivyunleashed This story was inspired by their artwork, linked here

Silco pushed open the creaking door of his apartment, the familiar scent of damp wood and laundry powder mingling with the faint aroma of your perfume. The night had been long, filled with whispered deals and the ever-looming shadows of Zaun’s underbelly. He stepped inside, the weight of the world pressing on his shoulders, bi-colored eyes revealing the true depth of his emotions. Always the strong leader, the iron fist that ruled the Undercity, now stood a bare and broken man worked over by the waves of the world. 

Discarding his coat on the rack by the door, the house was clean. You always made sure it was for when he arrived home, nothing to worry over in this place you had crafted into a safe haven. A note stuck to the fridge annoucing leftovers for him to consume was ignored in favor for trudging into the master bedroom a few doors away. Silent as ever, as not to disturb anything you may be doing, Silco was met with a sight that never failed to stir emotions within his hardened heart. 

There you lay, a soft silhouette against the rumpled sheets, bathed in the pale moonlight that streamed through the cracked window. Hair cascaded over the pillow, framing your serene face. For a moment, Silco felt the chaos of his life fade away. You were everything he wasn't: kind, gentle, a soothing balm against the harshness of your surroundings. He truly did not know how he deserved you. 

He moved quietly, not wanting to disturb you. The sight of your sleeping peacefully made his heart swell. In a world filled with betrayal and violence, you was a beacon of warmth, a reminder that there was still a little beauty to be found. When he had met you a few years ago, a florist on the edge of the Piltover/Zaun border, his mind could have never conjured the heavenly scene that lay before him. He could hardly fathom how someone like you could exist amidst the grime and despair of Zaun, yet here you were, a perfect contrast to the life he led. For all his machinations and ruthless ambition, Silco found himself captivated by the quiet strength you brought into his life. He remembered your laughter shared over late-night meals and whispered secrets under the stars—moments that felt like stolen treasures in a world that sought to take everything from him.

Silco sat on the edge of the bed, studying your features. Your brows were slightly furrowed, as if lost in dreams, and a soft smile played on your lips. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, watching as you stirred slightly but didn’t wake. He leaned closer, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“I’m home, darling.” he murmured, though he knew you couldn’t hear him. But the words felt necessary, a promise he held deep within his heart. Your night gown rode high on your thighs, highlighting your soft and supple body to his vision. The material did little to hide anything from his gaze, you had been waiting his return. Expecting him, ready for him. It was not lost on him that his lifestyle led to a lack of moments for intimacy, and yet here you were, pliant and pretty all for him. 

Taking a calloused hand, he traced the outline of your curves. Admiring how the moonlight accuntuated all your features, casting an etheral glow about the room. You were his angel, there was no doubt. Yet as he sat here thoughts of corrupting your innocence filled his head. You had always expressed the idea of him taking you while sleeping was attractive, the conversation had occured no less than two weeks ago. He remembered it vividly, how shy you looked, the way your eyes glistened with lust. 

“You never have to ask, Sil. My body and heart are all yours, anytime you need me.”

Oh, how sweetly you had asked. How tempting the thought was then and especially now. He shouldn’t. A perveted old man such as him had no business in corrupting your body in this way. But you had given him permission, commanded his desires to unfurl even in the darkness of night. So, it was no issue, when his hands trailed up to cup the fullness of your breasts or when his lips came to kiss up the valley of your thighs; face coming to view your pantiless cunt. The smell alone was divine, you had worked yourself before his arrival. Slick still shone on your clit, pussy open and willing to indulge his every whim and wish. The ease with which two of his long fingers came to enter you was a small surprise but a welcome one. Taking his time to scissor you open and prepare you for his cock, paying special attention to that soft and gummy spot on your front wall that had you moaning in your sleep. 

His ministrations did not wake you but added to the growing wetness between your legs, thighs spreading unconsciouly to allow him room to work. Even in sleep, your body complied, loved his every touch and begged for it. Working his fingers up into you, allowing himself the pleasure to watch how you fluttered around him. Silco swore that there was no prettier a sight than the one in front of him. You shifted, mumbling inchoherently. He paused. He shouldn’t wake you, disturb you from your peaceful slumber. But everything in his body screamed at him to continue, to make you cum and moan on his fingers till pleasure rocked your body so much it awoke in a blissful state. 

Removing his fingers to unbutton his trousers, Silco used the slick that remained on his digits to prepare himself. Adjusting so he lined up with your entrance, he sunk slolwy into you. Inch by inch, letting out a gravely moan at the feeling of your warm and tight cunt. So inviting, practically made for him. You laid still, body adjusting to his length with ease, so used to taking him so well. Beginning to thrust in and out with delibarte motion, Silco soon found himself approaching his orgasm faster than expected. 

Unbeknownst to him, your eyes fluttered open, body finally recognizing the intrustion. Suprise spread across your feature, though your boyfriend’s actions were not unwelcome. Every plunge of his member caused jolts of arousal to shake your body through the core, illiciting a pornographic moan to annouce your awakening. 

“Feel so good my darling, always been so good for me. You like it when I fuck you like this, nice and slow? Use you for my own pleasure?”

You couldn’t help but nod, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your own orgasm rapidly approached. Silco’s thrusts started to become sloppy and heated, eyes closing and hair disheveled from the intensity. Soft grunts left his lips and with one final stroke, he spilled hot ropes of cum into you; spurring you into your own orgasm at the feeling of his hot seed within you. Calming down from your high, you brought you hand to caress his cheek gently. Admiring the way his chest heaved with each breath, how dialted his eyes were. 

“Welcome home, love.”

[pedgito]

𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | Joel Miller x reader — Series Masterlist (part i)

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | Moving in with you soon-to-be stepfather is the least of your concerns while under the unfavorable regime of your mother—but then there's Joel, Tommy's brother, who always know just how to soothes your worries.

author's note | this was originally supposed to be a tommy x reader idea that morphed into joel and here we are. special thanks to @chaotic-mystery and @swiftispunk for lending me their beautiful minds and helping this make more sense <3

content warning | 18+ smut, DDDNE - this is very loosely stepcest, so if that's not your thing, ignore. that's the only warning i'm giving on that, additional warnings: no outbreak, step-uncle!joel, age gap (20/late 40s), religious trauma, parental trauma (mentally, with one instance of physical), und*rage drinking, contradiction all over the place, joel is a broke man who makes horrible decisions, reckless behavior for reader, mast*rbation, voyeurism, one-sided flirting, joel can keep your secrets <3

word count —9.2k

PART TWO, PART THREE (tbd)

“Married?”

There’s the wiggle of your mother’s fingers, the shine of the small diamond under the natural light streaming through the window to your shared two bedroom apartment—being twenty and still living your mother wasn’t ideal, but it was all you could manage at the moment. You force a grin and take her hand, examining the jewelry.

Tommy had actually talked to you weeks ago, a prerequisite to going through with the whole ordeal, making sure that it was okay with you. It wasn’t that you minded Tommy, he was a good man—too goddamn good for your mother, who always seemed to find a way to ruin something. Everything. You wanted to warn him, but even as much as you despise your mother on most days, he made her happy.

“It’s been a year,” You comment offhandedly, “you’re sure he’s the one?”

She snatches her hand away with a bitter gaze and fiddles with the engagement ring, pacing her way around your shared living room.

“Can’t you just be happy?” She pleads, so petulant and whiney. Like a child, “For once?”

You shrug, “I like Tommy, he’s a good guy. It’s just—he’s the only man you’ve dated since…”

“Baby, I know what I’m doing.”

Your eyes flick up under a lazy gaze, seemingly unconvinced. But, you mask it well.

“So, are you going to elope then?”

She shakes her head, suddenly shaking with a subtle excitement that has her bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“No, honey—we’ll be planning a wedding. Small, of course. You know Tommy doesn’t have much family.”

Just a brother, whom you’d never met. You never heard about anyone else.

“And—“

That’s a tone you don’t like.

Anticipation. Hesitation.

“We’ve been looking for a house.”

“Oh?”

So, she was kicking you to the curb. Time to leave the nest, grow up—blah blah. 

But, she continues.

“And in the meantime, we’re going to move into Tommy’s childhood home!” 

You cringe externally at the excitement, “What’s wrong with our place?”

“We’re gonna be saving every penny we can, cutting costs where it seems easier. Joel is offering to let us live there for the time being rent-free, given we take care of the place.”

Joel. You knew a name. Not a face. A personality. Only that he was Tommy’s older brother. Worked with him, spent weekends with him. That was it. He seemed like a lonely man from a distance.

“So, you’ll do just that,” She remarks, a definitive look that allows no argument, “we’ll be out of here by the end of the month.”

“That’s next week, mom—“

“Then, I suggest you get to packin’.”

Unbelievable.

“You can’t be serious—I don’t even know him. Do you? Have you even met him?”

“Once or twice,” She shrugs casually, “He’s a private man, but he’s nice enough. I’m not questionin’ it, honey. Tommy is a good man, I can assume Joel is, too.”

Your mother spots the disdain the moment it crosses your face, a finger held up in reprimand.

“You are as ungrateful as they come,” She bickers and then follows the shame, “what would he say?”

Your eyes drag up toward the ceiling, feeling the echo of a scripture you’ve heard time and time again—different words, same meaning, “Thou shalt love thy—“

“—neighbor as thyself,” Your mom finishes, a prosperous grin on her face, “Go on, wash up before bed.”

Even as you graduated and started college, still living under the conveniences of your mother, she felt the need to guide and protect, preaching whatever bullshit she’s swallowed down the past twenty years of your life.

She wasn’t like this before, in fact, it was strikingly opposite. But, she’d had you young, regretted her choices, and while trying to be a good mom had found something to cling to, to help guide her back to some semblance of sanity and safety. 

Unluckily for you, it means years and years of strict teaching and rules that made no sense to you now. Hell, they had stopped making since long before that, given the way your mom has relaxed on her morals since she met Tommy, a man that was nowhere near religion or under the constant fear of something other.

You questioned it everyday—tried to fight it, but then the guilt creeped in.

It was your own mother’s doing; a rigorous and methodically set out schedule when you were young, everything followed by prayer or reminders from your mother. He’s always watching. As you grew older, into your body and started to question—it was never outwardly, but your mother took notice and found that shaming you for your inherent provactiveness was easier than guidance. In fact, punishment was an even easier route, most of the time.

“They’re having a cookout tomorrow,” She calls over her shoulder as you depart quietly to your room, somehow more exhausted from a five minute conversation with her than anything else you’ve done all day, “so, best behavior, alright?”

You don’t even try to hide the roll of your eyes that time, sighing softly and answering with a tired, “Yes, of course.”

It would have been hard to predict how that day would change the trajectory of your life completely.

—

The house is beautiful, really. Deep in the back of a suburban neighborhood, right in the middle of Austin. It was lively—kids playing, neighbors conversing over gates from their lawns, music blaring through the streets. 

But frankly, it was fucking weird.

You're halfway up the driveway when Tommy opens the door, spots your mother first and swoops her up into a hug that lifts her off her feet, a squeal escaping her.

When it’s your turn, it’s a gentle but quick hug. An even softer pat on the back as he welcomes you in.

Welcoming you to what would soon be home. 

Temporarily, at least.

“Come on,” He calls back toward you both with a nod of his head, “we just got finished on the grill and the game is about to hit kickoff, y’all are just in time.”

You step past the threshold, enveloped in the homey smell of vanilla and citrus, something a little savory—which you assumed was the food, and some of the scent from fresh cut lawns from the neighborhood seeping in through the open windows. 

Tommy’s closing the door behind you before he comes around your side, yelling out with his hands cupped around his mouth.

“Joel, get ‘yer ass in here!” Tommy yells, slightly jarring as you flinch at the loud sound. Tommy seems to notice and offers an apology with a kind rub of his hand against your shoulder, “Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. He’s hard of hearing—“

“I’m not,” The man grumbles as he rounds the corner from outside, walking through the sliding door with a tray of freshly cooked patties lined up in rows, “my hearin’ is perfectly fuckin’ fine.”

Tommy seems careless to dismiss it as your mother offers Joel a polite greeting which he returns with what you can immediately spot is a forced smile. Then, Tommy introduces you. Your smile is just as forced, but out of the inherent nervousness of the situation, offering a small wave that Joel returns with a nod.

“Food’s done,” Joel offers as a change of subject, “game’s starting so—“ He waves vaguely at the array of food, “have at it, I guess.”

“Did you wanna say grace, baby?” Tommy asks, looking over at your mother.

“No—no, I’m sure you and Joel don’t do that,” Your mom looks at you, rubbing a surprisingly gentle touch over your cheek, squeezing gently, “We can say it to ourselves right, sweetie?”

Your eyes avert toward Joel who looks more uncomfortable now then when you walked in. You nod regardless, shrugging away from your mother’s touch. She doesn’t argue and returns her attention toward Tommy, thankfully.

You move curiously, examine the different toppings and add-ons, sides, and different treats. It was far more than you were used to—a nice change to your mothers botched box dinners and takeout ordering that always ended up wrong. 

Joel moves mechanically, eyes on the screen as he slaps his burger together, sliding you the bag of buns like clockwork, almost as if he sensed it. It was the only tangible acknowledgment he’s made aside from the nod. But, beyond that—it was silence.

He was an odd man. Quiet, reserved—part of you understood. It was uncharted territory, two mostly strangers in his home. You’d be a little annoyed too.

But, you remember your mother’s words. So, you make an attempt.

His hip is digging into the counter at the edge of his kitchen as he holds the plate to his chest and eats his burger, messily and starved, scarfing it down in very few bites. He catches you staring at him curiously, shamefully taking the first small bite of your own burger. He doesn’t react at you, but he does consciously wipe the mess of grease around his mouth as he sets his plate down, aiming to set himself up with another burger.

“It’s nice,” You say suddenly, the lack of elaboration apparent and Joel raises his eyebrows in unison, “—your house, it’s…nice.”

Above the low rumble of music playing on the radio—something you can determine is a rock song, of what band or song name you have no idea, and the sudden voice of Tommy yelling over a fumbled pass, which Joel also echoes his frustration with as he catches the screen over your shoulder. You jump, turning over your shoulder to look. 

Joel seems to notice the way you startle, “‘M sorry,” He apologies kindly, “and…thank you.”

It was hard to settle and feel comfortable, knowing that normally, in any other situation, your mom would be judging them—the music, the course language, the entertainment of boys throwing a ball around and tackling each other. It wasn’t in her taste or her faith to condone such things. 

But suddenly, with Tommy, none of it mattered. It was jarring, to say the least.

Joel leaves you after that, taking a seat on the separate recliner from the couch your mother was sharing with Tommy, somehow entranced in the game and Tommy’s answers to her questions. Everything was overwhelming and in the midst of another yelling match at the screen with your eyes locked on the sight as you blindly walked backwards into the counter behind you, you felt your elbow hit a can and suddenly the liquid was spilling over your feet.

You yelp in surprise, catching only the attention of Joel. You scramble, picking up the can before sliding it into the sink, stepping out of your now ruined sandals and feeling suddenly overwhelmed by everything—the noise, the smelly, sticky mess of liquid all over you and your clothes.

Joel’s footsteps are heavy but swift, his plate sliding over the island as he rips off a wad of paper towels over your head and turns on the faucet, “That’s my bad—forgot my beer was there,” You look up at him wide-eyed, feeling him guide your hands under the stream to wash away the mess, “you alright?”

It feels like someone was twisting your gut in their grip—you’ve never heard those words aimed your way before and the anxiety engulfs you. Joel was already crouching down by then, scooping your ruined sandals into his hand and nodding toward the backdoor, “We can wash these off and leave ‘em outside to dry.”

You nod dumbly, watching him run them under the water, but his eyes examine you closely and the quick rise and fall of your chest, “You can follow me outside, if you’re needin’ a break.”

Again you nod, but you’re sure that time. You step over the small puddle on the floor and your face scrunches up in disgust, sensing the presence of your mother as she comes into view.

“Oh, honey—you made a mess.”

“She’s alright,” Joel stresses, “I left my beer there, s’nothing some napkins and water can’t clean up.”

There’s a silent reprimand behind her eyes, something you would hear about later or something she was storing for another time, “C’mon,” Joel’s voice saves you and you follow, shying away from the piercing look of your mother, feeling the wave of relief after Joel closed the backdoor behind you.

“Accidents happen,” Joel offers as a reminder and a sense of comfort, placing your sandals on the concrete as he reaches for the hose, turning the spout and watching as it sputtered out slowly before it steadies and he spray them down before catching your feet, washing away the foamy liquid.

You jump slightly, mostly from the change in temperature against the humid, sticky heat of the sun as it beats down over the house, “You got that look,” Joel says offhandedly, reaching over to turn off the spigot and wrap the hose up.

You glance up at him, stepping out of the puddle of water, “What look?”

“Like someone stuck you in a cage full of bears and you ain’t got a clue how to respond,” The comparison makes you laugh, not because it was ridiculous, but because it was true. “I got—I got a place you can sit for a while, if you need the silence?”

There’s a weight lifting off your chest, one you hadn’t realized was there until he says the words.

You nod and Joel crooks a couple fingers your way, beckoning you to follow. 

Joel leads you back into the house, but takes a sharp right to the set of double doors leading to a separate room—bookshelves and stacks of unorganized papers, a desk cluttered with random items and an old desktop, an even dustier radio stuffed away in a corner.

“It’s my office, don’t use it much anymore,” Joel explains, but taps at the open double doors, “but it’s a good place to block out noise, if ‘ya need a minute.”

You step past him curiously, leaving a trail of wet footsteps that Joel would eventually clean up later. It was cluttered in the room but somehow brought a sense of comfort, clearly a place that Joel seeked out himself from time to time.

“There’s books, magazines—feel free to use the computer,” Joel waves vaguely, “although, I dunno how well it works, haven’t turned that thing on in ages.”

“Thank you,” You tell him sincerely, watching him nod as he closed the doors behind him and gave you free roam to look around, be curious.

And naturally, you were.

He had a large collection of music—CDs and cassettes, a shelf full of vinyl albums. Books, tons—something you assumed he’s collected naturally over the years. Most of it seemed fairly boring, non-fiction books on various topics; how-tos and instructional guides, nothing exciting. Your gaze tracks to his desk, running your fingers along the chair before you’re pulling it out and taking a seat, the plastic creaking with age.

You press a key on the keyboard but the computer refuses to come to life—you chew at the inside of your cheek, looking around at the pattern of squares on the wall, like missing pieces plucked from the wall—like dust collecting around picture frames that were no longer there. Your fingers dance along a drawer, twirling in your seat as you pulled at the handle and find a drawer full of thick files. But, on the top, a book with a sticky note is sitting alone, completely out of place.

Leave it, you tell yourself. 

Still, your fingers reach for it.

It’s a thick book, a soft-matte touch from cover to cover. It was mostly unsuspecting, a plain cover of a mirrored forest, the post-it stuck over the title but you’re too scared to remove it. You flip it over, reading over the summary on the back. The summary is dull, unsuspecting, but as you flip through the book, skimming from chapter to chapter you realize it is not that.

And to be fair, you knew this type of genre was something people were interested in, never laying eyes on it yourself. But, to see it stuffed away in the desk of one Joel Miller, is a fair surprise—you examine the text, hanging on every word as you delve deep, deep; into a scene of voyeurism amongst a group. Somewhere between that and the next chapter you get lost, only resurfacing when you hear a knock at the glass door to the room.

The book snaps shut as you spot Joel, who’s peeking his head in with an emotionless gaze. He could just be checking to make sure you’re not snooping too deep, but then he’s walking toward you at a leisurely pace, a fresh beer in his hand as he squints, looking at the book in your hand.

He plucks at the post-it and chuckles slightly.

“Forgot that thing was in there,” He tells you, “Tommy bought that—year ago, I think? One of his stupid gag gifts.”

“You’ve never read it?”

Joel shakes his head, lips pulled in a tight line of indifference as he sipped at his drink.

“If you like it, you can take it with you.”

And then he realizes his misstep, your eyes meeting awkwardly.

“I mean, I’ll be here permanently come Sunday, so—”

Joel smiles slightly, a subtle quirk of his lip, “Well, least I know you’ll bring it back.”

You follow his movement, his fingers gripping the aluminum can and the perspiration from the can wetting his fingers, sweating down his wrist and you subconsciously lick your lips before your teeth are dragging, digging into the flesh of it. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with the movement and Joel catches you, your intrigued gaze and volleys it with a question.

“Did you want a sip?” He says, mostly as a joke.

He remembers the time Sarah had come to him, piling onto his lap and with her constant stream of questions—he’d let her have the tiniest sip as she kept pressing on it and Joel knew there was no use in fighting the steadfast energy of an eight year old.

She hated it, immediately retching in disgust. Joel gave her a chuckled “I told ya so, kiddo.”

This was different, though. 

“I’m not twenty one,” You counter, mouth quivering down into a slight frown and your shoulders shrugging instinctively, “and my mother would kill me.”

But, you want to—not even driven by an act of rebellion. It was genuine curiosity.

Joel tilts his body, peeks around the corner and spots the pair still sat on the couch.

“What she doesn't know won’t hurt her,” Joel crosses that line for you, your hands cupping around his larger one as he guides it to your mouth, “s’not like you’re gonna go get piss drunk, right?”

You giggle softly at that, lips pressing into the can as he tilts it into your mouth. The vision of him is…overwhelming. Stood over you in the mostly unlit room, barefoot and jeans rubbing at the top of his feet, dark cotton shirt pulling over his shoulders and a few weeks of facial hair unkempt and outgrown. 

If your mother were to see, it would have been you.

Your fault. And again, maybe it was.

But Joel, he towers. You’re nearly eye-level with his waist but admittedly, they never leave his face. You sip gingerly, fingers curling around his own as you tip your head back and consume more, until your cheeks are puffing out with the liquid and you swallow, immediately grimacing at the taste as you pull away, sputtering out a soft cough as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Joel defends, not even bothering to wipe the rim as he takes another sip, somehow finding that more intimate than any of what had just happened between you both.

Neither of you say anything and you shake your head, fingers curling around the book in your lap.

“I’ll take your word for it,” You nod, but Joel can see the disgust for it on your face.

“Go on, take the book home,” Joel offers, “ain’t gonna be missed ‘round here.”

You smile sweetly, licking over your lips and tasting the remnants of the alcohol, a sign of sin amongst the many you had just committed, but the lack of guilt was startling. You couldn’t even begin to care.

When you leave, the book is tucked away in your bag and hidden. Joel is already cleaning up by the time your mother is rushing after you out the door and to the car, leaving a curious Tommy to linger around, helping Joel sparsely before he’s bugging Joel for a lighter.

Joel had quit smoking long ago, but still had a few lighters tucked away in his study.

Tommy searches around aimlessly, sifting through cups and drawers until he’s pulling open one, pausing, calling over to Joel curiously.

“You finally put up that book I gave you a goddamn century ago?”

His answer is your name as he turns the faucet off, wiping off the final dish.

“She seemed interested so I let her borrow it,” He calls over to Tommy, who’s leaning up with a wide-eyed but amused expression—it was clear that his brother was sometimes just as oblivious as him.

“Joel, you never read the damn book, did you?”

“Was I supposed to?”

Tommy makes a face, a smug smile fading in for a brief moment.

“Tommy, what was the book about?”

Tommy eventually finds the lighter, snatching it up with a ‘aha!’, trailing back over to Joel before he finally answers him.

“Thought I’d spice up your nightly reading, brother.” 

Joel can piece his words together; the innate smugness and tone that was edging toward a full-on chuckle, it wasn’t an appropriate piece. And given the stuff he did know of your mother, the worst choice of a genre for you to sneak home with.

“Did I do a bad thing?” Joel asks, “I mean, that girl is an adult—”

“Twenty, yeah. But, her mom—”

“Your fiance,” Joel clarifies, “she’ll be your step-daughter soon too, you realize that?”

“She can be a little—”

“Judgemental?” Joel finishes for him, drying his hands off with a dish towel before it toward the empty counter, “Freakish? She’s got your ass goin’ to church every Sunday, ain’t seen that before.”

Joel sighs, a clipped noise as he scratches at his forehead.

“I’m not judging, I swear. But, her moving here—I’m not feedin’ into that whole schtick.”

Tommy holds his hands up in defense, “She knows—”

“I fuckin’ hope so.”

—

The vision of the scene is imagined under the safety of your room that night, squinting to read the text under the dim light of your bedside lamp, words amongst feelings that weren’t foreign but often weren’t welcomed. You’ve had boyfriends and kisses, experiences like any other girl has, but you’ve shoved it away for far too long—it was years of high school, shying away from boys and girls only to finally find the freedom to branch out in college, but under the constant reminder of you mother’s generosity to allow you to finish schooling without the stress of work or the responsibility of earning your keep. He’ll guide you, she’d always remind you. A constant reminder that you were under his watch, more of a threat than anything. And your mother knew that.

The hand tucked under your chin switches to the other, your now free hand trailing down your chest and under the sheets, slipping past the snug waistband of your underwear. The scene was vivid, descriptive as the man pulled the female characters legs apart, exposing her, doting her with the kind of words that made your stomach swirl and your gut twist, dragging your middle finger down the center of your pussy and sighing at the slick that was already there, gathering up the wetness until you could guide it over your clit in quick, hurried circles.

You snap the book shut, biting on the corner of your pillow as you squeeze at the squishy fabric, squirming under the feeling of your impending orgasm, muffled moans slipping from your stuffed mouth as you feel it crash over you in a wave, eyes squeezing shut so tight you start to see the light. 

The comedown is slow, rolling over onto your back and silently slipping the book under your pillow and the guilt you usually feel is filled with nothing. You were empty, thoughts filling with vague images of someone, a man—faceless, but if you dug hard enough you’d know. 

So, you do. 

And with his face comes something you felt so often but pushed away.

Desire.

And for the one person you know you shouldn’t. 

—

The move takes place a few days later, endless hours spent packing boxes and putting the rest away in storage, several trips back and forth from the apartment to Joel’s house.

You often had to remind yourself it wasn’t Tommy’s. It was Joel’s—but Tommy was his brother and he wasn’t going to turn him away, so if there was anyone to respect, it was Joel.

The house had three bedrooms; Joel’s, the one Tommy and your mother would share, and the room with a door painted purple and covered in various things. Butterflies, flowers—it was off-limits and you didn’t attempt to make anyone budge on that matter. It was a sore spot for both of the Miller brother’s and when Joel offers up the attic, you’re quick to take it.

He’d even taken the time to make it somewhat liveable. A fresh coat of white paint, storage for clothes and some of your belongings you’d decided to bring along, a space for your bed and plenty of the furniture you couldn’t part with. Besides, it was nice having a level away from everyone else.

“The ladder does get stuck from time to time,” Joel admits as he stands a few feet away from you, watching as you look around curiously, “so, just give a holler. Hopefully one of us’ll be home if that happens.”

You laugh softly, dropping your bag to the floor and crouching, unzipping it and reaching in for a very specific item, pressing it into Joel’s hands as he’s expecting. His fingers curl around the side of the book and there’s an unspoken tension that fades as he speaks.

“Our secret, alright?” Joel’s eyes don’t leave yours, waiting for the confirmation of a nod.

You nod meekly, “She’d kill me, you know? I mean, not physically, but I’m sure she’d have an opinion on it.”

Joel nods in understanding, “Like I said, our secret.”

And given how rough the day was on everyone and once your bed was finally assembled in your room, you find yourself passing out without a moment of idle thinking, the exhaustion taking you the moment your body hits the sheets.

You wake up when the day has already gone, crickets chirping outside and the distant buzz of street lights outside the window above your bed. It’s dead silent in the house otherwise, aside from the hum of the central air and fan tucked in the corner of the room. You roll over and tap at your phone. It was a few minutes from midnight, one day fading into the next without waiting for you to catch up.

You rise groggily and rub at your tired eyes, placing your feet on the hardwood floor before deciding to take a walk down to the kitchen, feeling the dryness of your mouth as you licked at your lips. You’re careful as you open the entrance to the attic and lower the ladder, careful and quiet footsteps as you make your way down and close it, surprised at the growing hum and voices coming from the living room.

You edge close, soft and gentle footsteps as you pry the cabinet open and reach for a clean glass and turn on the faucet, filling it up halfway with water—that’s when you hear the hmph that warns you that you weren’t alone, spotting Joel turning over his shoulder to look at you. 

He seemed half-asleep too and you suspect he fell asleep on the couch, insomnia or exhaustion getting the better of him, you offer a quiet apology as you sip at the water.

“You’re alright,” He assures, rubbing two hands over his face and through his grown out locks, curling around the side of his neck and around his ears, “I was heading to bed anyways.”

Unlikely, you think. 

“What are you watching?” You speak softly, arms crossed your chest as the glass cup dangles from your fingertips, bare thighs pressing against the edge of the couch and Joel adjusts slightly, subconsciously making room for you. 

“Dawn of the Wolf,” Joel answers through a long yawn, “you seen it before?”

You tilt your head with a raised eyebrow, “Joel, come on—”

“Right,” He chuckles tiredly, “It’s some cheesy action movie I’ve seen a thousand times, it’s a—sometimes I just throw it on for background noise, hate sleepin’ in silence, you know?”

“Could you make it a thousand and one?” You ask curiously.

The bed he was heading toward was suddenly forgotten, watching as you eagerly climbed over the side of the couch and curled up on your own cushion, smiling slightly as he reached for the remote and started the movie over.

“Were you actually heading to bed?” You ask as the opening credits begin to play, “Because, if you were I won’t be offended—”

“I mean, I could. Probably need to, the havoc this couch does on my back.”

You offer a kind but lazy smile, half of your mouth arching up, “Besides, I’d ask way too many questions.”

Joel never does move, though. Almost like he’s resigned himself to that position until the movie was over, watching you occasionally with that familiar glaze over your eyes. It was the last movie he’d watched with Sarah before she passed, a few weeks shy of her fifteenth birthday.

By now, it was more of a foolproof method to help him sleep.

It was mostly poorly choreographed fight scenes and a dialogue heavy relationship between the two main characters that progressed unrealistically fast, forcing a laugh behind your palm after the male character professed his love after two days of knowing the other character and even Joel shakes his head at that. But, as the penultimate point of the movie comes, it hits a peak.

They’re sitting around a fire, obvious and unspoken tension lingering that snaps in an instant, one touch on the other and they’re on each other—Joel leans forward, reaching for the remote to skip past the scene, “No, don’t,” You tell him gently, your hand pressing against his palm.

The remote loosens in Joel’s grip and he settles, feet crossed over the coffee table.

Your head tilts, “It doesn’t even come across real,” You comment, “or believable, I guess.”

The sex—or lack thereof, a swarm of lust-filled gazes and strategically placed camera angles. It was mostly heavy pants and moans and Joel coughs into his balled fist to break the silence. You snicker softly and pull your legs up near your chest, head resting against your hand as you watch.

“Probably because it doesn’t work like that,” Joel comments after a while, pulling your attention to him suddenly, “sometimes it’s just—”

“Fucking,” You answer crudely, “for the sake of fucking.”

Joel looks like he wants to keel over, his face contouring in surprise as the words slip past your lips. It’s a sight, a matching set of pajamas he’s sure your mother gifted you, covered in some pattern that mimics the innocence that lies within you, a soft pastel color on satin fabric and that definitive cross that dangled at the center of your neck, slipping just between the press of your breasts—and yet, here you were, speaking to him like sin incarnate. 

“What?” It was amusing, in a way, “I got a strict mom, doesn’t make me a total prude.”

“Okay,” Joel feels the line drawing itself in the sand, or in this case, the middle of the couch, “you’re right—but we can move on from that.”

You offer a soft hum of acknowledgement, smiling at the way Joel continues to shake his head, biting back his own amusement in response.

Somewhere between there and the end of the movie, you both end up asleep on the couch, your feet tucked away in Joel’s lap and his hand resting over your ankles. It was easier falling asleep knowing Joel was near, oddly enough.

—

Things are set into motion very quickly after the first couple days. With wedding planning in full swing and your mother returning to her night shifts at the hospital, it was a sudden newfound freedom that you’d never experienced. Tommy and Joel were gone often too, sometimes for days at a time to work on site, only popping in every so often for little things. Showers, food, before they were back out for another twelve or so hours.

And with your semester of college over, you were left with the void of summer to fill up your time. It does take some convincing, but eventually your mother isn’t hovering as hard. Truthfully, you could thank Tommy for some of that.

“She’s not even a teenager anymore, she’ll be alright.”

It didn’t ease any of the restrictions she put on you in the past and it didn’t make you feel any better for feeling like you had to lie, hide—doing normal things that even if she did as a young girl, would find any reason to shame you over.

But, you were thankful with her infatuation over Tommy because it gave you a break.

Late nights at the beach with friends or last minute trips to the drive-in, it was a sorrowful peek at what you could have had for years, but only had the luxury of exploring recently, somehow always ten steps behind, still feeling that familiar strum of nervousness run through your body at the sight of a crush, somehow even more unavoidable now.

And Joel, well he hasn’t helped either.

Eventually, his own curiosity gets the better of him and he does read the book. His reader’s perched on his nose as he leaned back in the recliner, knowing that if he’s caught onto your schedule well-enough, you’d find yourself downstairs within the next few minutes.

You blamed the insomnia, but you always liked Joel’s company. At night, without the scrutinizing gaze of your mother when she was around, it was easier. 

You’re spreading peanut butter on a plate of sloppily sliced apples when you hear Joel flipping through the page of a book, the cover obscured by the knee he had propped up to lean it on.

“Anything interesting?” You ask casually, screwing the top back on the jar of peanut butter and leaning up on your toes to return it to the top shelf, ignorant to the eyes that catch your backside and the stretch of your top as it exposed your ass and the small piece of your underwear that peaked over the waistband of your shorts. 

You could blame it on the heat and that was partly the reason, but Joel notices the longer you settle in, the more comfortable you get, the conservativeness becomes less and less. It was subtle, shirt pulling up over your midriff or the collar of your shirt dipping a little lower than usual.

This time it was the shorts that hugged your ass and gave him an idea of every curve your body had been hiding and he felt his throat closing up at the thought, clearing it instinctively.

Joel sips on his beer, nursing it more like, as he shrugs and flips to the next page.

You’re curious, sliding the plate into your palm and making your way toward him, finger sliding over the cover and lifting it. Joel doesn’t stop you, but he rolls his eyes at the grin that breaks out on your face, tongue pressing into your cheek and you know–he knows.

“Good, isn’t it?” 

If he only knew how many times you found yourself knuckle deep inside of your cunt with a whisper of a sigh on your lips, shame for the obscure pictures of the characters slowly morphing into him—it wasn’t like you had tried for that, your own subconscious betraying you. 

Something in the bridge of your words and the look on your face has him pushing his glasses up his forehead and into his hair, swiping an apple off your plate and into the thick peanut butter before he’s shoving the fruit into his mouth and biting into it with a loud crunch.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” You smirk, walking backwards slowly until your calves hit the couch and you took a seat, turning it to a random channel playing some televised drama, legs stretched out in front of you and the gentle slope of your shoulders on display as you shoved the apple slice past your lips, licking up the remnants of peanut butter on your finger and Joel almost forgets what he’s doing, feeling the book slip from his hands and hit the glass bottle still half full, sending it pooling into his lap and you look over with a tickled expression. “Too much, I guess?”

“You’re a little shit, you know,” Joel comments as he tosses the book aside and departs quietly, bedroom door shutting behind him as he turns in for the night. There wasn’t an ounce of bite in his tone.

Joel doesn’t know what he expected of you—maybe something more docile, but you were anything but as time grew on and you realized that under the obvious distraction that your mother was dealing with, you found yourself pushing that line more and more.

There’s a particular night when an argument with your mother ends up with Tommy and Joel getting caught in the blowback of it, leaving both of the men at a loss for words. It was the first time they had seen the real, full extent of a meltdown from your mother. Tommy had seen glimpses, blips—but, Joel. It was a first.

It started over a simple question, harmless.

“It’s one dinner—I’ll be there and back before midnight. I don’t see the big deal?”

“Big deal? Honey, we’ve got plans tomorrow. Dress shopping, cake tasting—I was cooking a nice dinner tonight that we could all enjoy, as a family. Seein’ as we’re all somehow, by the grace of god, under this damn roof at the same time for once. And you leavin’ looking like that? I don’t think so.”

Family. Joel seems to find distaste in the word, his eyes flicking toward his brother briefly. He doesn’t understand her final point either, jean shorts and a tank top in the humid Austin heat in the middle of June seemed like a perfectly reasonable option, but it clearly struck a nerve.

“I don’t even know why I’m asking,” You counter, “I mean, this is Joel’s house, after all. Shouldn’t I ask him for permission?” You turn to him, a low blow at your mother, “Joel, do you care if I—”

Joel hesitates for half a second and you thought he might answer.

A sharp, but swift blow to your cheek has you stopping cold, eyes pulling up to anywhere but your mother and of course, they land on Joel who’s jaw is clenched so tight you think it might snap, matching Tommy’s shocked expression but Joel's was laced with an undertone of rage, simmering slowly.

There was nothing but silence, shoving past her with a charge of your shoulder and then past Tommy who has just enough time to side-step and catch your mother as she turns after you, the realization of her actions settling with her, her open hand balling into a closed fist before she drops it.

Joel was quickly discovering that this living situation was a lot more than he’d bargained for.

–

Tommy had taken your mother out for the night, rented out a hotel after dinner and allowed her the space to cool down but Joel had stayed up, mostly in anticipation that you had forgotten the spare key he’d given you in the quick flee, walking halfway down the block and then some, desperately waiting for your friends to swoop in and save you.

It was just supposed to be dinner at the local diner in town, but catching up with a classmate you hadn’t seen in weeks quickly turned into a night drive that reached well past midnight, eventually pulling out front of Joel’s house, receiving the less than gentle kiss the boy had been building up to all night.

Joel hears the low roar of the engine outside of his house, lowering the volume on the television as he walked toward the door and glanced through the window, fingers curling the small curtain that covered it and there’s a moment where he decides—do something or do nothing, but even then he doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

Not as you lean over the console of the car and into the lap of the faceless person in the driver’s seat, his hand all over you—Joel knows, you’re hoping that your mother would catch, that she’d end up more furious than she was earlier and then some.

The horn beeps as you fumble inside the car, the heat of the moment broken as your back dug into the steering wheel and his breath was hot against your neck and suddenly you wanted nothing to do with this, watching the glow of television through the front window of Joel’s home, knowing he was awake.

There’s a shadow that crosses the window and confirms your suspicion—you weren’t ever truly free, there was always someone watching. Joel seemed like the likely suspect and that was worse than your mother when you actually took the time to think it over.

The departure is quick, shoes scuffing against the pavement as you meet the front door, jiggling with the doorknob before it’s being opened from the other side.

Joel’s eyes follow you as you walk inside, toeing your shoes off near the door and finding that you don’t even have the energy to make a remark at him, nothing funny, nothing snide. You look over your shoulder briefly and find him watching, not so much staring, but he was following your movements. You’re right around the corner as he finally speaks and you stop, closing your eyes as you take a slow, deep breath.

“She’s not home,” He informs you, “left with Tommy about an hour ago.”

It was unwanted information, unneeded. You mumble an acknowledgement but he’s speaking again when he notices you move, forcing you to turn on your heels and look at him.

“Are you doin’ it to piss her off?” Joel asks. His intention was unclear, whether he was trying to get under your skin or not, but with the rage still lurking in the back of your mind, it takes on a mind of its own.

“What do you care, Joel?”

“She ain’t my favorite person, I think you know that. But, if she’d caught you just know, she’d have your ass—”

“She didn’t,” You retorted. It’s the first time you see Joel frustrated, his brow creasing and the hands at his side slide into his pocket.

“You’re actin’ out,” Joel concludes and there’s a squint of your eyes as they narrow that tells Joel he’s right, “and under my roof—”

“Oh, so that’s what it’s about,” You tell him, arms crossing over your chest as you step toward him, floorboards creaking under bare feet as you approach him, “what—are you gonna punish me then?”

“Not my business,” Joel tells you, “I ain’t like your mother. But you keep doing this, actin’ out. Something bad is gonna happen soon enough.”

“Then—what?” You ask, trying to surmise a path to both please him and shut him up—unfortunately for him, you know just how, “Would you rather me act out with you?”

“Now, that ain’t what I—“

“Make sense, don’t it? My mother would be so grateful you’re keeping your eyes on me, watching after her little girl.”

“I suggest you tone it down,” His voice is different—nothing you’ve heard before and it should scare you, but it doesn’t.

“Or what?” You retort carelessly, “You’ll do it for me?”

There was that face again, jaw clenched. His gaze never left yours, only following you as you grew closer.

“You can teach me all the stuff I’ve missed out on,” You smile slightly, “I mean, you’ve done alright so far.”

He says your name and for a moment, it scares you. But, it was a warning—don’t cross that line, don’t blur it.

“I’m messing with you, Joel.” 

It’s a believable lie, one you can even convince yourself of.

His breath hitches slightly, breathing out through his nose as he nods at your response, “Just, be smarter. Alright?”

Your aggressive approach breaks, offering a sweeter smile as you back away, hands falling to your side. He can see the smear of your gloss at the corner of your mouth, half-tempted to swipe it away and clean you up.

“I will,” You appease, “can I go up to my room now?”

Joel offers a lazy glare of dissonance, not giving you an answer before he’s brushing by, off to his office that you hadn’t been able to spend much time in since the cookout. 

If he could be stubborn, so could you.

—

The tension between your mother doesn’t settle, but she does attempt to be civil. You often thwart off any attempt at a conversation that would lead into anything other than necessary communication. It feels wrong, you know it is—but you couldn’t bear the thought of trying to explain to your mother how you were beginning to believe her so-called beliefs were a complete joke, pushing an insane and untenable rhetoric on you.

Joel isn’t as warm either, keeping his distance beyond the night you had lost your footing with him and slipped, offering him an opening that would lead you both down a dangerous path. It had mostly been a joke but you could never admit to yourself how badly you wanted him to agree. The idea of it.

There is a point where under almost constant supervision of one of them, all of them flitting out of the house at some time or another, that you find a window (figuratively and physically) to sneak out of, preparing yourself for a night that your mother would have shamed you about until you found yourself six feet under. It was hypocrisy, actually–knowing your mother was doing similar things at an even younger age, with much less mindful thinking. 

And you might have pushed it a little too hard when you reach the front door that night, the floor spinning as you fumbled with the lock again—though, of course, Joel was saving the day.

“Do you ever sleep?” You gripe, eyes squinting as you stumble inside and out of your shoes with a wobbly wave of your arms, reaching out blindly for anything but finding nothing, almost tumblring over the motion but Joel is catching your arm silently, holding you upright. 

He knows that smell, you reek of sweet alcohol and cheap booze.

“I was makin’ sure you got home,” Joel admits, “that a crime?”

“Yes,” You slur softly, “and crime—” You giggle slightly, stumbling closer and pressing your hand into his chest to steady yourself, “means punishment.”

Joel looks down carefully, watching your fingers curl over the collar of his shirt and the sensation of your body, warm and so soft as it pressed against his own.

“Unless, you’d rather punish me,” You offer, the deep buzz of alcohol inflicting your mind and thought process as you pull at his shirt, feeling the stitching rip slightly under your grip and you make a delighted noise, instantly leaning forward to press your lips to his neck.

Joel should’ve pulled you away minutes ago, but again, he’d allowed it to go a step too far.

A step closer to breaking—closer to complete corruption.

Joel wraps his hand around the back of your neck and squeezes, pulling you back easily despite your desperate grip, eyes blown out and wide as you peer up at him, so dazed he isn’t even sure it’s you talking.

“You can,” You admit, mouth parting open as you lick your lips, “I want you too, Joel.”

Joel’s nostrils flare as he forces your hands away more sternly, throwing them at your side until the dejected look forms on your face, stumbling back sadly.

“You need to sleep this off,” Joel tells you

But, you already have the idea in mind as you shove him away, stepping around him awkwardly until you can reach the couch, your limbs falling lazily against the cushion as you curl up, hazy gaze meeting his one final time before you eyes close and for once, Joel fides security in his room and tries to calm his rapidly beating heart—a mix of worry and guilt, knowing if he’d had enough alcohol and inhibition in his system he wouldn’t be as strong, given so easily into that temptation as you had.

But, if routine proved you right, it wouldn't be the last time you’d speak to him that night.

—

Joel was a creature of habit.

The nights that he is able to sleep have been few and far between and he can hear you moving around upstairs, early hours of the morning when he’s in and out of an exhausted daze and in your own similar nature, he hears it. There’s a creak and slow footsteps that traverse the floor above him, but there was no world where he could face you right now. He’s not sure when you decided to move upstairs that night, a curious but lucrative thought in the back of his mind.

Do you remember?

He spends the last hour flexing his achy fingers to distract him from the subtle ache in his pants.

Joel wasn’t a father anymore, the part of him was buried away and long-forgotten, the pieces of that part of him dissolved away through the years of tears and alcohol and constant repression. 

Watching after her little girl.

It’s asinine, knowing you were anything but. He had no intentions of being that sort of figure over you, you didn’t need watching—or guidance from him, even. A protector? Maybe, but that wasn’t his job either.

Keeping your eyes on me.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, in fact. And as the realization clicks, he knows he’s fucked.

He’s barricading himself in the bathroom before he puts himself through the suffering of another nightly conversation with you, especially after how things had left off hours before, turning on the shower in a hurry as he hears the latch to the attic release and your impending arrival.

He strips, pulling his shirt up from the center of his back and over his shoulders, working hastily at his jeans and climbing into the shower, palms pressed against the tile wall in front of him as the stinging, hot water hits his back and soothes the soreness that lingering in his joints. It did nothing for his cock which had gone from half-hard in his jeans to standing proud, insistently.

He couldn’t ignore it—and he knows under the safety of the constant stream of water, muffling out the ragged sigh that escapes his lips as he fists his cock in a tight grip—he hasn’t ached like this in years, knowing he was well past his prime, in his mind. 

Unfortunately, the unraveling of it all would come down to the slippery lock on the bathroom door. It only stuck half of the time, eventually worming its way out of place and leaving the steam to slip through the cracks, but Joel is oblivious.

You find your footing as you step off the ladder, still reeling from your drunken stupor as you make your way down the hall, spotting the faint flickering of a light from the bathroom that told you Joel still hadn’t changed that lightbulb, but also that he was in there—it couldn’t be anyone else. You only vaguely remember your actions from earlier, but you didn’t forget the look on his face—the frustration. The want. Your footsteps are quiet, praying feverishly that they wouldn’t creak under the pressure of your feet as you peek your head into the crack, eyes scanning the mirror placed over the sink and suddenly, they stop.

Freeze, more like.

The shower curtain is shifted back just enough that you catch the front of his chest, so broad that it doesn’t even capture the full width of him, muscles in his shoulders straining as your eyes follow the length of his arm and down, until your eyes connect with the sight of his cock, fisted in his hand as he jerked himself earnestly, unabashedly with impatience. His head is hung too, water damping his hair over his forehead and obscuring his face.

You can hear him, though. God, you could fucking hear him.

His knuckles curl into the tile wall where his other hand still rest, balling into a fist as he punched it out of frustration, grunting with how tightly he was squeezing himself and the pace at which he was fucking his fist. 

It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen such a sight, but with Joel it was bigger, intimidating—in every sense of the word.

His cock, for one, was larger than any you’ve seen before.

And with shame, your mouth watered at the sight. 

His groans, a gentle guh that sounds like a prayer of something else but is strangled, his movements becoming jerky as his speech becomes slightly clearer, “God—fuckin’,” He heaves, the sound of wet skin and water under the speed of his movement, “—girl, always testin’ me.”

You swallow at the mention, fingers curling dangerously around the door frame—one misstep, one slip and you’d swing that door right open, revealing yourself. 

He leans his head up suddenly, eyes closed as his arm works furiously. Your ears are locked on his face now and you see the way his lips form around your name as he utters it, so quiet you barely hear it but it was you. There was no mistaking that.

He comes a few moments later, his thumb rubbing over the tip of his cock and circling as he shot his load into his palm, knowing that he could make a mess if he wanted to but decided not to, using his slick covered hand to drag over his cock a few more times as it softened in his hand.

Fortunately, you’re long gone by the time he’s reaching for a towel, back upstairs like you’d never even been there in the first place.

There was no denying it now, though. It wasn’t in your head—the temptation was real, tangible, and just within reach. 

Because with that temptation came doubt, followed by mistakes.

And really, you wish you were strong enough to resist.

Unfortunately, you weren’t. So, you plan. 

He was already a broken man, but you needed him shattered.

-

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

[moonstruckme]

if it’d be ok to ask, would you ever want to write some sweet fluff of remus & a chubby/plus-sized reader?? i’ve been kind of struggling lately, the holidays are a difficult time for me & my body and i just personally love to think about how he’d love a soft figure 🩷

Of course it's okay to ask sweetheart! I'm not sure how this ended up going in a pre-relationship direction but it did, so the adulation isn't quite as overt but I hope it comes across anyway? Hope you're having an easier time my love <33

Remus Lupin x plus size!reader ♡ 872 words

Remus stubs his cigarette out before he reaches the front door, tossing the butt into the grass and telling himself he’ll come back to throw it out later. You don’t like when he brings the smell inside, and he’s not keen on another lecture from James on how he’s shoddily built enough without sabotaging his lungs too. When he opens the door, the apartment smells of cinnamon and sweetness. 

“Fuck, he’s home. We’re doomed now.” Sirius tilts his head back, dark hair streaming over the back of the couch, to send Remus a droll look. 

“No, no, he’ll be a sport.” James turns around beside him. “Rem, we’re trying to decide between playing blackjack”—he infuses the words with a good amount of enthusiasm, eyebrows raising meaningfully—”or doing a puzzle.” His face falls. “Which would you prefer?” 

“I’m sick of blackjack,” you say, coming into the room carrying a plate of cookies. And you’re…wow. You’re wearing a dress Remus hasn’t seen before. It hugs and flutters about your curves prettily, swishing around your hips as you breeze into the living room to set the plate in front of James like a bribe. “And I made snacks, so you’d think I get a bigger say.” 

“Doll, we appreciate you, but you’re just bitter because you lost everything last night,” Sirius says while James munches happily on a cookie. “You don’t want a chance to win some back?” 

You shoot him the sort of deadpan look you’ve only recently worked up the courage to start using on them. “We were playing with gummy bears, Sirius. I’m not too torn up about it.” 

“I’d be alright with a puzzle,” Remus says, settling into his favored armchair.

Sirius sends him a look like Of course you would, you lovesick traitor, but it’s easy to ignore when you’re smiling at him so beautifully. 

“Yes! Knew I could count on you.” The easy words warm his chest more than they have any right to, helped along by your hand on his knee for balance as you lower yourself to the ground by his feet. 

“Fine,” Sirius grouses, standing, “but I’m picking the puzzle.” 

“More than a hundred pieces,” you say as he goes to the shelf. “If we’re done in a half hour, I’m going to petition for starting another.” 

“Wretch.”

You tilt your head back to see Remus, lowering your voice. “You’ve been smoking,” you whisper. 

He grins, caught. “Don’t tell.” 

“I won’t,” you roll your eyes, patting his calf reassuringly, “but don’t get near James, he’ll sniff you out too.” 

“Thanks, love. Is that dress new?” 

You dip your head, one of your shy smiles gracing your lips. “Yeah, I got it a few days ago.” 

“It looks really nice,” he tells you, struggling to keep the reverence from his tone. “You look really nice.” 

“You think so?” You make no effort to hide how pleased you are at the compliment, your eyes wide and sweet as they look up at him. It’s one of the things he really likes about you. “Thanks, Rem. Did you get a cookie?” 

“Not sure there are going to be any left,” he notes, eyes going to where James is wharfing down another, watching the two of you sneakily out of the corner of his eye. 

You laugh, reaching forward to steal a few from the plate. Remus tries not to let his eyes catch too obviously on the backs of your plush thighs as you sit up on your knees to lean over the coffee table. It’s a substantial effort.

He thanks you when you pass him a couple, inspecting the beige and brown swirls on the treat. “What are they?”

“Cinnamon roll cookies,” you say through a bite. “Figured I’d try something new.” 

Remus takes a bite, letting the warm softness meld to the roof of his mouth. “It’s really good.” 

One of your shoulders comes up, a bashful half-shrug. (Remus wants to put his hand over it. Wrap the strap of your pretty dress around his pinkie.) “Thanks,” you breathe, like the word is starting to feel awkward and too-familiar in your mouth. 

James shoots Remus a look. He ignores it pointedly. 

“We have too many difficult ones,” Sirius announces as he flops back onto the couch, unceremoniously depositing a puzzle box on the table. “I found the simplest option I could.” 

You roll your eyes at Sirius’ bellyaching, sliding the plate of cookies closer to him and giving his hand a conciliatory pat. 

The look he fixes on you in return is disgruntlement entirely for show. (He loves you, truly.) “Can we at least have some wine while we work?” 

“I have no intention of ruining your night, Sirius,” you say diplomatically. “Bring it on out.” 

He hops back up, eager to avoid the tiresome work of building the puzzle’s foundation, and aims for the kitchen. 

“Alright, losers,” James says, dumping the pieces on the table, “get us started.” 

You tug on Remus’ wrist, pulling him down from his chair so he’s sitting beside you. One of his knees presses into your thigh. You bump his bony shoulder lightly with your soft one. 

“Help me with the border?” 

He’ll do anything you ask him to.

[d3adp00ls]

I’m still waiting for that angst fic pookie 😍🫶

Clingy

Vanessa (fnaf movie) x reader

Summary: Vanessa has been a lot more distant a lot but you didn’t think she would miss a important night like this. (I KNOW MY SUMMARY IS BEAUTIFUL)

Contents: Angst, Yelling, Tears, stressed Vanessa, Established relationship, hurt no comfort (yet), Vanessa gets slapped 😬, somebody needs driving lessons lol.

Word count: I'm pretty sure my dog knows.

Side note: 🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗

Pt.2 Pt.3

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You were sitting on the couch in your shared home with Vanessa, watching a TV program that featured extravagant rings that cost more than your entire life. Recently, Vanessa had been coming home later than usual, and every time you tried to bring it up, she would dismiss your concerns or accuse you of being too clingy. You tried to brush off her words and the hurt they caused, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore your feelings. Eventually, you gave up and started going to bed before she came home. However, tonight was supposed to be different. You had pleaded with her to come home early and she had promised she would. Filled with hope, you had prepared a romantic candle-lit dinner and even bought her a gift. But as the minutes turned into hours, the food grew cold and the gift remained untouched on the table. You sat on the couch with a half-finished glass of wine, tears welling up in your eyes.

She was supposed to have arrived hours ago, and you had debated whether or not to just go to sleep. But as you were about to doze off, you heard the familiar sound of keys jingling and the front door opening. Vanessa, your late girlfriend, seemed oblivious to your presence as she quietly closed the door and went straight to the kitchen without acknowledging the food you had prepared for her.

With a clenched jaw, you stood up and cleared your throat, causing Vanessa to finally notice you. "Y/n? What are you doing up?" she asked with a confused and slightly worried expression.

You wanted to scoff at her question. How dare she ask that when she had promised to be here? "Oh, you know," you shrugged, taking a few steps towards her, "Just waiting for my girlfriend who was supposed to be here almost four hours ago." Your voice rose with pent-up anger towards the end, and you could see Vanessa flinch slightly at the sound of it.

"Y/n…I lost track of time, I'm sorry, really I am, I-" She started to apologize, but you cut her off, not in the mood for her excuses.

"Do you know what today is?" you asked, your voice heavy with disappointment. Vanessa looked even more puzzled, and you let out a sigh as you walked over to the table and picked up the small gift box you had prepared for her. You fiddled with it between your fingers, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill.

"June 7th," you said, looking back at Vanessa, hoping she would finally understand. But she still looked confused, and you felt your heart sink. "The day we started dating, two years ago. Does it not ring a bell, Vanessa? Or were you too busy thinking about work or some other woman while you were out all night?" you couldn't hold back your anger any longer, and you let out a loud yell, tears now streaming down your face.

"Oh…" Vanessa mumbled, finally realizing her mistake. You nodded, wiping the tears from your cheeks, but they kept coming.

"Yeah…" you said, your disappointment evident in your voice.

"Baby, I know I've been really busy and lost track of time, but please try to understand-" You cut her off abruptly, rolling your eyes and turning away.

"Here we go again…" you mutter under your breath, feeling her glare burning into the back of your head as you make your way to the bedroom. You toss the gift box in the trash on your way, feeling frustrated and angry.

"What do you mean?" she asks, following you into the room. You let out a sigh and close the door behind you, but she stops it with her foot and pushes it open, grabbing your arm and spinning you to face her.

"Don't you dare walk away when I'm talking to you," she says coldly, but you scoff and pull your arm away.

"No, you don't get to act like you haven't been doing the same thing for the past week. You always do this, yet whenever I try and speak up about it, I'm the bad guy? That's complete bullshit!" you yell, jabbing your finger into her chest.

"And don't even try to pretend that you've only missed spending time with me once. You do it every single day," you continue, your voice cracking as tears start to well up in your eyes.

"Every time you tell me you'll be here, you never are. And when I try to talk to you about it, you just shut me down and tell me the same bullshit excuse or you just flat out tell me to get over it. But it's getting harder and harder to ignore, Nessa. And this morning, I had to beg you to stay. You said you would, and I believed you. But then you showed up later than ever and didn't even respond to my messages. You didn't even remember what today was. At this point, I’m convinced I’m just some inconvenience to you." Your voice breaks as you continue to pour out your feelings, wiping away the tears that are now falling freely down your face.

She looks at you in surprise, wanting to reach out and comfort you, but you take a step back and wipe away your own tears before taking a deep breath and looking away from her.

"I'm tired of feeling like I'm not important to you, Nessa. I just want to spend time with you and feel like I matter to you. Is that too much to ask?" you say, your voice barely above a whisper now.

Vanessa let out a heavy sigh before shaking her head in frustration.

"Y/n, I love you, but I have responsibilities and obligations that I can't always put on hold for you," she said with a huff.

You looked at her with hurt and confusion in your eyes, crossing your arms and turning away. "Am I not important to you anymore?" you mumbled, your voice trembling.

Vanessa's sigh pained your heart as you heard it. "Of course you are, but you just don't understand," she started, but you interrupted her with a pleading look.

"Then help me understand," you begged, taking her hands and pulling her closer to you. You pressed your forehead against hers, desperate for her to see how much this was affecting you. "Please… I want to understand," you whispered, gazing into her eyes.

She looked away, her jaw clenching as she pulled her hands away from yours. Your heart sank as she avoided your gaze, and you clenched your fists in frustration.

"Okay," you said quietly, finally accepting that she wasn't going to explain. You pushed past her and left the room, heading to the living room.

You didn't hear her follow you as you grabbed your coat and began putting on your shoes. As you searched for your keys, you heard Vanessa enter the room and stand in the middle of it, watching you. But you didn't acknowledge her as you grabbed your wallet from the table behind her.

"Where are you going?" she asked, her tone a little more stern.

You ignored her and continued searching for your keys, finally finding them between the couch cushions. You stood up and began walking towards the door, but she grabbed your arm and turned you around forcefully.

"I asked you a question," she glared at you.

You glared back and snatched your arm away, walking past her towards the door. But she followed you, grabbing your arm more harshly this time and turning you around.

"No, you don't get to leave-" she started, but before she could finish her sentence, you had already raised your hand and slapped her across the cheek.

You were shocked at your own actions and immediately regretted it as you saw the red handprint on her cheek. You both stood there in silence and shock before you finally mumbled a quick apology and left.

She eventually made her way back to the bedroom, her heart breaking as she heard your car speed away. If she had stayed just five seconds longer, she would have heard the sound of another car zooming by and a loud crash. If she hadn't fallen asleep just ten minutes later, she would have heard her phone ringing.

But she would see all of that in the morning.

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BRO I HAVE BEEN PROCRASTINATING THIS FIC FOR A WEEK I LITERALLY HAD IT FINISHED JUST NOT EDITED and then i was supposed to post it earlier but im on the phone with some friends BUT FINALLY I POSTED IT also ill post part two sometime this week hopefully ANYWAYS TOODLES🤪✌🏾

[slvtforfiction]

Short imagine + Headcanons for Schlatt :)

☆ Schlatt X Reader

☆ Headcanons

☆ Fluff/suggestive

☆ If you are going to request: please check at the pinned post if requests are open,otherwise I will delete your requests which I have already been doing

☆ Creds to @cafekitsune for dividers :)

Masterlist | Pinned post

☆ Schlatt is going to announce your relationship by posting a photo of you two cuddling (you cuddling him because he doesn’t want to seam “weak”) and saying something like “I’ve bagged a woman”

☆ Schlatt is honestly so sweet off camera,the different personas really making a switch. Like if you came onto his stream he would make constant jokes about you but if he’s not streaming let’s be honest,he cuddling up to your chest.

“Ignore that it was a moment of weakness chat.” He’d say if you came into stream

☆ “Guys I hate Valentine’s Day it’s all bullshit-“ Buys you roses,chocolate and a small necklace for you

☆ If you ever joined one of his streams and got hate in dms,twitter etc he would definitely post something on twitter like ; “I love my girl and if you don’t fuck off,fucking idiots hating on someone you don’t know,get a life.”

☆ “Schlatt come to bed it’s late” You know what he would do? Mock the shit out of you before coming to bed to cuddle with his little girl ; “Awh does baby want some hugs?” || “Awh can you not sleep without me?”

☆ Honestly I feel like he wouldn’t actually go too far with his jokes, he knows the limits and boundaries of what he can say/joke about and wouldn’t cross them to save himself.

☆ Honestly a sweetheart but tell him that and he’s immediately a tough guy ;

*You and schlatt laying in bed together with schlatt on your chest*

“You’re such a pretty boy.”

“Don’t push it.”

☆ And adding to that,he secretly loves every nickname you have for him because he knows that it’s special to him and you don’t share that nickname with anyone else.

☆ The dominant one in the relationship,massively,not just in bed but all around the house he’s a very masculine presence. Need help with something? He’s on it immediately. Need help getting off?he’s going down.

☆ Will constantly let you have your way with his hair,though he would sit there and complain in actuality he has all the time in the world for you and so if you want to fiddle with his hair,put it in small pony tails etc. go ahead.

☆ If you needed it he would definitely help you with more feminine typical things such as hair,makeup and nails. (Disclaimer: I’m not saying these are feminine things I’m just saying it’s feminine typical!)

☆ If you are on your period he’s immediately by your side. “What do you want? Chocolate,hot water bottle?” || “I heard that *insert thing* helps”.

☆ He’s not letting anyone talk to you the way he talks to you,at all. If someone calls you a nickname he uses he’s making his presence known in the most intimidating way. Jealousy.

☆ He has the best music taste,long road trip? Turn that shit up !! Definitely the type of person to listen to any genre of music,as long as he likes the tune,he doesn’t care.

☆ Would help you with stream/youtube set ups. Would buy you lights/leds/cute little toys he’s found etc. Just to add a bit of himself to your set up.

“Babe I got you some more Leds for your room!”

“Awh you didn’t have to,thank you.”

☆ Would definitely brag about you to his friends. Ted has heard every single positive description of you along with multiple pictures of you whilst he brags about how pretty you are.

☆ Would absolutely spoil you. You know when you mentioned 3 months ago that you wanted a new pair of converse in that new colour you saw? They’re now at your door

“Jay you have to stop buying me things!”

“You’re my girlfriend,I’ll do whatever I want.”

☆ Would definitely call it weakness whenever he showed affection on stream. He would joke about it enough on stream but the moment he’s off camera he’s showering you with affection and praise.

“Chat you didn’t see that,that was weakness.”

☆ “Schlatt + His girlfriend,cute moments!” They come up more regularly on your YouTube feed than Schlatt himself.

☆ He isn’t a huge fan of PDA but he will wrap a light hand around your waist,kiss your forehead etc. he wouldn’t do any big gestures in public.

[imaginesfordifferentfandoms]

Step Into The Daylight

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Requested - @cc--2224 as part of @cloneficgiftexchange

Prompt - "Well, I’m sorry I fell in love with you, okay? But it happened and I can’t do anything about it.” “You... What?” &  "I never wanted anyone to feel bad for me, especially not you"

The sun streaming through the windows did little to fight against the coldness he felt, he knew the room was warm, he knew the cold he felt deep in his bones wasn’t there and yet he couldn’t fight the shivers that wracked his body. It didn’t matter that he could see the small room his brother’s had shown him to once they landed on the planet, in his mind he was still there, still in that cold, small cell with no hope of escaping.

He’d been there for so long, long enough that he had lost track of the days. He could have planned an escape, could have made some attempt to leave their torture but what for? There was nothing waiting for him outside of his cell anymore.

Gone was his relationship with his brothers, gone was the easy back and forth banter with Wrecker, gone were the late night talks with Hunter, gone were the days him and Tech would sit together, his brother’s voice filling the silence without expecting anything back from Crosshair, gone was Echo’s steady presence, at his side whenever he needed it.

Gone were you.

Gone were the early mornings when the rest of his brothers were still asleep, only you and Crosshair awake in the cockpit holding a warm cup of caff and filling the space with softly spoken conversation. Gone were the days spent trying to stick by your side, gone were the stolen glances and lingering touches, gone was sneaking away after missions to explore together, gone were the chances he took to watch you smile, gone was the promise he’d tell you how he felt tomorrow.

Crosshair had run out of tomorrow’s a long time ago.

After all he had done, all the pain he had put his brothers through, the pain he had put you through, this was the least he deserved. 

And so when the chance came to make his escape, to leave the pain and the torture behind he hesitated. The cell door was open, it would be so easy to leave and yet he hesitated. 

If the kid hadn’t been there, if her life didn’t depend on him getting her out he knows he would have stayed where he was, he would have rotted in that cell for as long as they decided he was useful alive.

Now he was free and somehow he felt more confined than ever. It wasn’t just because Hunter wouldn’t take his eyes off him, it wasn’t because Wrecker hovered or the fact Omega had seemed to attach herself to him. It didn’t even have anything to do with the fact that you were here, stars above Crosshair couldn’t think of a time he would ever have ignored your presence and yet now he did everything to stay away from you, not able to face you yet.

No, it wasn’t because of you or his brothers that Crosshair felt confined. It was because he didn’t deserve this freedom, in his head he was still in the cold cell, destined to rot away.

Crosshair stood from the floor, unable to lay there any longer. The room had a bed tucked against the wall but Crosshair had only managed about ten minutes of tossing and turning on it before he gave the bed up for the floor, the bed too soft compared to what he had become used to.

Everyone else was still asleep as he made his way outside, no real destination in mind. His feet carried him through side streets until they grew sore and only then did he make his way back, stopping not too far away from where the others were to sit on the sand, the sun shining blindingly on the water. 

He didn’t deserve to be here.

“I used to come here.” A voice interrupted him some time later, a voice he recognised all too well. “It’s quiet, no one ever comes here.”

Crosshair didn’t turn to look at you, he couldn’t bring himself to do it but when you sat next to him it was too much. He went to stand but your hand softly grabbing his stopped him.

“Please stop running away.” You pleaded softly and Crosshair didn’t have to look at you to know your eyes were teary but he did anyway, his heart aching for having made you this way.

“I can’t do this.” He told you quietly, forcing his gaze away from yours and looking back out at the water. 

“I don’t know what happened to you,” You said after a moment's silence and Crosshair balled his hand into a fist, silently begging you to stop talking. “I don’t know what they did to you and you don’t have to tell me but-”

“But nothing.” He spat angrily, glaring at the sea and instantly hating himself for lashing out at you, so he tried again, softer this time. “But nothing. What they did to me was nothing less than I deserved.”

“Don’t say that.” You said, head shaking as you tried to compose yourself.

“It’s the truth, I tried to kill you, kill my brothers…I hurt you all and for what? For the Empire to throw my loyalty in my face.” Crosshair shrugged. 

“For what it’s worth, I never gave up on you.” You told Crosshair, looking away from him as you spoke. “It didn’t matter what you did, how far you strayed from us, I never gave up on you.”

“You should have.” He muttered. “Everyone else did, Hunter doesn’t trust me, Wrecker wants to but he knows I’m nothing more than a lost cause.”

“That’s not true. Hunter’s just being Hunter, he needs time to adjust, needs time to figure things out in his head and then he’ll want to talk to you. Yeah you’re both gonna throw out words you don’t mean, maybe a punch or two but after that…it’s Hunter, he’s glad you’re back. As for Wrecker he wants to come to you, you know that as much as I do but he’s scared, he doesn’t want to spook you so he’s waiting for you to make the first move.” You explained, keeping your voice soft, not turning to face Crosshair as he turned to look at you.

“What about you?” He finally asked, voice barely above a whisper. 

“I was with Wrecker. I kept my distance and waited to see what your move was. Turns out your move was to avoid everyone.” You laughed and Crosshair felt himself relax a little, the sound one he hadn't heard in so long and it somehow managed to push out some of the cold he felt. “I feel for you, Cross, I do. Stars only know what the Empire did to you but you’re free now, don’t let them win, don’t shut us out.”

“I never wanted anyone to feel bad for me, especially not you.” Crosshair said after a long pause of silence and you laughed again.

“We all feel bad for you, despite everything you’re one of us.” You told him so sincerely that Crosshair felt like he’d been punched in the stomach at the speed his breath was stolen from him.

You turned to face him, a small smile on your face and you hesitated for only a moment before you reached out and took his hand in yours, entwining your fingers together.

“I don’t deserve any of this,” Crosshair forced out and you smiled at him softly. “I don’t deserve you, you should be running away from me, leave me behind and move on.”

“Well, I’m sorry but I fell in love with you, okay?” You told him, watching as his eyes widened in complete disbelief. “It happened and I can’t do anything about it.”

“You…what?” Crosshair choked, for so long he had dreamed of you and him, of a life where you could possibly want him but it was such a far off dream, something that would never become a reality and now you were saying the words he had longed to hear for years.

“You’re stuck with me, Cross, I’m not going anywhere, I’m not running away. You’re it for me, always have been.” You said, laughing as a tear or two managed to slip down your cheek and Crosshair only second guessed himself for a moment before his hand cupped your cheek and he softly brushed the tears away, his thumb caressing your cheek bone.

“I don’t deserve you.” He repeated and you smiled brightly at him. “But I will spend the rest of my life trying.”

“I love you.” You told him again, watching as his eyes became watery and he rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you too, so much.” He choked out and you couldn’t stop yourself from closing the small distance between the two of you, Crosshair not hesitating to meet you in the middle.

Crosshair’s hand on your cheek moved to your hair, pulling you impossibly closer as he kissed you, savouring every second of the feeling, something he had longed for and convinced himself he could never have.

Eventually the two of you needed to pull apart for air, breathing heavily but not going far from each other, foreheads together as you both smiled at the other.

For the first time in so long Crosshair didn’t feel a single bit of cold, his body was warm, his heart racing as he held you close. For the first time in a long time Crosshair didn’t feel numb, he didn’t feel pain or fear.

It felt like he was finally off that awful planet, it felt like he had finally left his cold cell behind and stepped into the daylight, able to feel the sun of Pabu for the first time and it was because of you, you were the source of this warmth, this love, this joy, this overwhelming relief that things would be better.

For the first time in a very long time Crosshair felt like things would be okay, he had you, he swore he’d make amends with his brothers, spend the rest of his life making up for everything, spend the rest of his life proving he was worthy of yours and his brother’s love. It felt easier, it felt doable with you at his side once again.

----

Thank you so much for reading!

Crosshair Taglist /

@ughhhhfoff,  @callsign-jinx, @venuskywaker,  @bobaprint,  @solstraalaa, @narcissa-of-kaas, @waytoooldforthis78, @the1sunshine1girl

[a-soft-hornytiny]

Loved.

Summary: They don’t love me as much as I love them was what you thought while leaving for the better. And it was too late when they realized how important you are to them.

Word count: 1.5k+

Genre: Angst

Pairing: poly!ateez x neutral!reader

Warnings: neglect (be careful while reading) let me know if i missed something.

Notes: this is an anon request, thanks for requesting. It reminded me of the reaction i did to you distancing yourself hehe i rarely write angst and im not sure how happy i am with it but I hope it’s to your liking! 

Part 2 is up!

Taglist: after the cut (let me know if you wanna be added)

—————————————

Where did it go wrong? You thought while frantically packing your things. You had spent hours and hours to find what you did to deserve this but you couldn’t find anything. Nothing pointed towards you doing something wrong but nonetheless you were here, aggressively stuffing your things into a bag while tears were streaming down your face. 

It had started about a month ago. You should’ve been suspicious when they started coming home even later than usual, some of them not at all. Always telling you that there was a meeting at work and that they had already eaten, leaving you to sit at the dining table alone. In the beginning you had still waited for them, hoping every day that at least one of them would be there and have dinner with you but it was always the same.

“Sorry.” “The boss invited us for dinner.” “I’m so tired I need to go to sleep.” “We had take out at work.” 

It left you confused. There was a time where they fought about who can sit next to you during the meals but now it seemed like they didn’t care anymore. You had only realised what exactly was happening when you saw a picture on Wooyoung phone. A picture of them with one of their colleagues. A beautiful woman with a bright smile, surrounded by your boyfriends. 

Jealousy had immediately risen inside of you but you didn’t say anything. It was not like they weren’t allowed to spend time with other people. Instead, you let your doubts eat you from the inside. Did they eat with her every day? Was she the reason they stayed at work longer than they would normally? Was she better than you? 

The worst part was that they didn’t notice. They didn’t notice how you felt and that you were distancing yourself. You would’ve thought that at least one of them cares. But all they cared about was being with that woman. 

What hurt you the most was that they didn’t tell you about her. If they had been honest with you, you wouldn’t have created all these scenarios in your head. But they lied to you. 

“Yeosang?” You tried to get his attention by tapping his shoulder. It was rare that all eight of them were at home. You wanted to talk about it. Voice your anxious thoughts. Letting them go. “Who is that woman you all have been hanging around?” You asked him because you knew he would be honest with you. The room instantly became silent.

“Oh? Do you mean Haeun? She works with us.” Yeosang answered, not giving you a lot of information. “Why do you ask?” 

You didn’t know what to say. “I-.. I’m just curious.” You stuttered, looking down at your feet. 

“She is really fun to be around! Recently she even invited us for dinner and paid.” San said excitedly. His words stabbed right into your heart. This was worse than you expected.

They weren’t cheating on you. You somehow could feel that. It was worse. They hadn’t been doing anything with a bad intention. They simply enjoyed spending time with her. 

They took you for granted. 

From that conversation on you decided not to chase after them anymore. You didn’t wait until they came home to eat dinner. You didn’t ask them how their day was. The few messages that you got during the day, you ignored. If they wanted to tell you something they could tell you in person. 

Your boyfriends on the other side didn’t realize how much time they were spending with Haeun. And how less they were spending time with you. 

The first one to notice that something was weird about you was Mingi. He had always left you a message during the day. Sometimes about work, what they ate for lunch or when they would be coming home. And normally you would respond relatively quickly. But you didn’t answer at all.

He sat in his practice room, eyes glued on his phone. Read two hours ago. It said on his screen. Mingi had voiced his concerns to the others but they disagreed saying that you didn’t behave differently. But he missed you. He wanted to eat dinner with you. Yes, Haeun was fun and when she first got introduced to the team, it was exciting to meet someone new. But he missed the familiarity. It had always been important to Mingi that he was not taken for granted and now he was afraid that they had done exactly that to you. 

But he didn’t act on his feelings. He didn’t want to cause drama where there was none.

The second one to miss you was Jongho. “Y/n what do you…” He wanted to ask you for your opinion on his singing when he turned around and faced an empty room. Right, Y/n isn’t here. He reminded himself, immediately feeling a sting in his heart. Every Tuesday you would follow him to practice and listen to him sing. But as soon as he thought about it he realized that you hadn’t been there in multiple weeks. Jongho instantly remembered Mingi’s concerns and decided to go look for him.

When they finally opened up about their feelings and what they had been observing, Mingi and Jongho went to tell the others. 

Before they could even finish what they were trying to say, Seonghwa tried to call you. He was blaming himself for not giving you the attention you deserved. He wanted to beat himself up. It was so clear now that Mingi and Jongho had mentioned it.

How could they neglect you like this and not even notice? 

And that was the same question you asked yourself as you zipped up your bag. Just as you wanted to put your phone into your pocket, it started ringing. It was Seonghwa. You took a deep breath as you declined the call and left the apartment.

You didn’t know for how long or how far but you needed to get away. Right after getting into the taxi you had ordered, you turned off your phone indefinitely.

“Y/n isn’t answering.” Seonghwa announced, his voice shaking. 

“Get in the car. I’m driving us home.” Yunho said, leaving the room with big steps. The others following him. Yunho’s mind was racing. He wanted to stay calm. He needed to stay calm. He had to be strong. It didn’t matter how he felt, all he wanted was to see your face and make sure everything is fine. It was all just imagination. You will be waiting at home. He tried to tell himself while he was getting into the car. 

Hongjoong was trying to remember any signs of you changing while he was squeezing himself into the car. He had never been home as much as the others so it wasn’t strange for him to eat alone or to sneak into the bedroom without waking anyone up. But something had been strange. This morning, when he came out of the bathroom, he caught you staring at him. And he could swear you had tears in your eyes. But since you didn’t say anything he had assumed you were fine. This damn assumption.

When they finally arrived at their apartment, San immediately jumped out of the car and ran to the door.

“Y/n? Y/n!” He called you before he even entered the building. Wooyoung and Yeosang were right behind him. After finally opening the door they stormed in searching for you in their home. The rest followed them slowly, scared to not find you. 

It wasn’t until he heard a sob that Wooyoung slowed down. A sob? He made his way over to your room, gently pushing the door open. His eyes widened as he saw San kneeling in front of your bed, a note in his hands and his face buried in your sheets. 

“Sannie?” Wooyoung slowly walked closer to his loved one. “Y/n…” San sobbed, not able to form a sentence. “What is it Sannie?” Wooyoung kneeled down next to him, softly taking the note from his hands. As he started reading, tears formed in his eyes. 

And that was when the others finally found them. They looked at Wooyoung, hope and pain in their eyes at the same time as he slowly shook his head. Yeosang’s legs gave in as he saw the expression on Wooyoung’s face. You were gone. No no no that’s impossible he thought, staring to the ceiling with a blank face. You couldn’t leave them.

Still not wanting to believe what was happening, Yunho harshly snapped the note out of Wooyoung’s hand. 

I am going on a trip. Don’t text or call me, I need time to think. I hope you understand. I loved you so much.

His head went numb.

Loved. 

————

Tags: @jonghoisbabie @multidreams-and-desires @little-precious-baby @yunhofingers-writes @serialee @crimsonbubble @cometoceantrenches @em--ilysm @deja-vux @kawaiiloli00 @ddeonghwva @aaaaajonghooooo @sansbun @cookies-n-joong @plonys @hijirikaww @nari-nim @yunkiwii @mingi-ivity @racheloveyunho @seongsangsgf @jhmylove @lizsvcks @yunhobabygurl @leoninadecorazones @kerra-that-one-random-fangirl @star1117-archives

————

[etherealising]

chapter twelve | a slow burn for me

masterlist | ↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣ |

pairing(s): carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: a peek into the beginning of an awkwardly domestic night between you and carmy.

warning(s): honestly none for this chapter, what a surprise.

wc: 6.4k (of filler someone get this girl an editor)

It was late. If the lack of light streaming through your office windows wasn’t enough of an indicator of the hour, the time on the small analog clock gifted to you by Nat and Pete was enough to force you to call it quits for the night. You did a quick check of the document staring back at you on your computer to make sure not only was it saved to the software you’d chosen to use, but also to the backup hard drive you’d learned to use over time.

The building was quiet as you tidied up your desk and powered down your appliances, your coworkers having cleared out hours ago. You could feel the exhaustion seeping into your bones, working overtime wasn’t on your agenda this morning but considering the two personal days you took after your emotionally demanding conversation with Carmy, it was no surprise the extra time was needed to catch up on all the work you missed out on. The hour wasn’t horrendous per se but watching the clock on your desk tick past 9:30 was all the excuse you needed to begin your journey home.

Your decision to return to the Tribune wasn’t as hard as you expected it to be. You were finally getting your life back on track, you were in a city you loved surrounded by the people you loved and cared about. If you needed to spend the next year avoiding and appearing indifferent to your boss, so be it you would figure things out as the days passed by. And maybe it wasn’t your most logical decision but you were sure within a year or two you might find another position, for now, though you just wanted to go home.

An exhausted sigh escaped into the dimly lit office as you began to gather your belongings of the day, eyes catching onto the pristine manila envelope that you remembered plucking out of your mailbox before driving to work. Ignoring the envelope you shrugged on your jacket before bending to grab your bag from one of your desk drawers quickly slipping your laptop and the unassuming envelope inside before double checking everything was exactly how you always left it.

The elevator ride to the ground floor was surprisingly relaxing considering how annoying the music playing through the speakers was. Exiting the metal box as it stopped you gave a cordial goodbye to the night guard on duty before exiting the building and speed walking to your car before the cool air could assault you any longer.

You were quick to start the car, allowing it to warm up as you turned on the heater and placed your hand in front of the air vents. The artificial warmth wafted through your car as you carefully plucked your phone out of your bag casually eyeing the envelope that you’d rather deliver sooner than later. A few minutes ticked by as you thought about the best course of action, scrolling through your contacts you quickly found Nat’s and pressed the call button hoping she’d be able to help you.

The phone didn’t ring for long before you heard Nat’s voice ring through. Your hopes that she wouldn’t answer didn’t have a foot to stand on knowing she always made time to answer your calls whether she was busy or not.

“Nat, hey I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” You could hear Pete’s voice in the background as Natalie sounded like she was maneuvering around.

“Baby, no you’re fine. Is everything okay? It's pretty late.” A small smile graced your lips at the slightly worrying tone in Nat’s voice.

“Yeah I’m fine, I uh...I was just hoping I could stop by real quick. I got the revised trademark paperwork in the mail today and was hoping to drop it off.”

The line was quiet for a moment as you awaited the woman’s response, part of you was sure the call had dropped but you could still hear her little noises through the phone.

“Nat? You still there?”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to drop it off with Carmen? He doesn’t live too far from where you are now.” You frowned knowing you hadn’t mentioned where you were during the conversation.

“I never said where I was Nat.”

“Oh, I know my love Pete checked your location.” Of course, you were on speaker, not that it annoyed you, whatever you divulged in this conversation with Natalie she’d be sure to gossip about it with Pete regardless if he could hear the conversation or not.

“Isn’t that like an abuse of trust? I shared my location for emergencies Nat.”

“Isn’t this an emergency? You’ve been avoiding Carmy since the night of my baby shower and as much as I love my brother Baby, I am sick of his moping.” You bit your lip suddenly realizing the truth behind Nat’s words, it hadn’t been your intention to avoid him but then you remembered the unanswered texts and the missed calls you had plenty of time to return but for some reason chose not to.

“Is he even home, feels a bit early doesn't it?”

“I’m sending you his address Baby. And I love you, but I am tired of this cycle between the two of you and trust me I know Carmy has his faults, I know the part he’s played in this relationship between you two. But aren’t you now doing exactly what you’ve been crucifying him for?” You could feel the indignation rising in your chest, the need to defend yourself coming in hot.

“I’m not excusing his actions Baby, but the two of you are adults and the fact that Carmy’s pulled his head out of his ass and is finally trying is a big step in whatever the hell is going on between you two.”

The sting of tears behind your eyes was the last thing you wanted to deal with right now. You hated when Natalie was right but you appreciated her perspective and the way she appeared unbiased. You took a deep breath trying to keep the tears at bay not wanting to cry once you began driving.

“I’m scared Nat.” It was quiet as she let you gather your thoughts. “Things have just been fucked up between us for so long that I’m not sure how to navigate a healthy relationship with him. And I…god I kind of hoped him finding out about everything would make him hate me and want nothing to do with me. But then he just accepted it and forgave me and now he’s checking in on me daily and sending me little anecdotes about his day and I’ve just been ignoring him hoping he’d finally just give up because Nat I just…I don’t know everything just feels too good to be true you know?”

You took a minute to even your breathing surprised by what you just admitted to Natalie, unaware that what you’d been feeling over the past few days could be put into words. You reached over to turn off your car, sure you wouldn’t be leaving this spot anytime soon, before laying your head against the headrest and allowing your eyes to flutter closed.

“Baby, you’re never going to be healthy if you continue self-sabotaging.” Nat gave you a minute before continuing. “I appreciate your candor but I don’t think I’m the person who needs to hear these things. Given Carm a chance, I know he’s a bit inexperienced in the relationship department but you both deserve a shot at whatever this dumpster fire of a relationship is.”

You let out a quiet laugh thanking Nat for her oh so kind words of wisdom. You checked the time on your phone as Natalie hung up, time wouldn’t stop just because you wanted it to. Your eyes were drawn to the incoming message from Natalie, a pin with Carmy’s address followed by a quick good luck text. You gave a tired smile at the combination of emojis before clicking on the pin and watching it load in the maps app, an easy 15-minute drive to his apartment complex.

Throwing the phone into the seat next to you, you quickly started the car forcing yourself to begin the journey before you had any more time to talk yourself out of showing up on Carmen’s doorstep unannounced.

This whole situation felt like deja vu. Here you were at Carmy’s doorstep uninvited once again, trying to work up the courage to just even knock on his door. A part of you hoped he wasn’t home to spare yourself from the apology you knew he deserved, but you also just wanted to clear things up between the two of you, finally get things out in the open, and hope the two of you could move forward in whatever way you both agreed upon.

You took one last deep breath before raising your hand to finally knock, cringing a bit at how hard the knocks must have come across. You waited a few seconds with no answer deciding to knock again, you were already here so all you could do was try.

Another series of knocks went unanswered, you couldn’t help the huff of laughter that escaped out of you at the parallels between this moment and your visit to Carmy’s New York apartment a year ago. You checked the time on your watch, deciding to call it a night and send Carmy a text when you returned home, hoping the two of you would be able to connect at a more decent time. Spinning around to return to your car you jumped on the spot, your hand moving to clutch the spot over your heart as it raced.

“Fuck Carmen! Why are you sneaking around?” You did your best to calm your breathing, surprised to find Carmy’s figure in front of you along with the fact that you hadn’t even heard his approach in the first place.

“I uh…I wasn’t.” He looked surprised to see you outside his door, slight confusion drifting through him as he tried to recall ever giving you his address.

The tension in the hallway leading to Carmy’s apartment was palpable, neither of you saying a word in hopes that the other would begin the conversation. An awkward smile curled your lips as Carmy’s eyes darted everywhere but your eyes. If anyone walked in on this scene of the two of you they’d be confused if you told them you’d known the man in front of you your whole life.

“I have-,”

“Would yo-,”

Awkward laughs left the both of you, your hand gesturing for Carmy to go first. He cleared his throat adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder, one hand digging into his pocket as he pulled out what could only be his keys.

“Would you uh, like to come in?” Carmy jingled the keys slightly to clarify as if his question wasn’t obvious enough.

You nodded, sending him a genuine smile, “Yes please if that’s okay with you.”

Carmy nodded clearing his throat as he shuffled past you, fingertips slightly grazing your waist in a move you both knew to be unnecessary but neither of you cared to comment on. You waited as he unlocked the door cautiously following behind him as he held the door open for you. A small nod of thanks was sent his way as you walked past eyes surveying what you could see of his apartment thus far.

Although the layout was different from his lodgings in New York, you got the same feeling you had when you entered that apartment a year ago. There was minuscule decoration hardly any to be exact but his presence could be felt as soon as you walked through the door a warmth that was incandescently Carmy radiated around you.

You felt heat at the small of your back as Carmy rounded on you walking past the board in the middle of his living room as he made his way towards the kitchen.

“Are you hungry? Have you eaten yet?” You watched as he rummaged through his fridge in search of something as you continued to look around his abode.

“Actually I-,” Carmy cut you off with a quiet curse under his breath, his figure quickly moving towards you before stopping in front of you. Confusion washed over your features as he carefully removed your purse out of your hands gently setting it on his coffee table and returning to you. You watched as he reached for your arm, hands tugging the sleeve of your jacket off before walking around you and removing it fully, the domesticity of the moment sent a shiver up your spine.

“I uh..I’m out of groceries but I’ll run and go get us some take out yeah?” He still wasn’t looking at you as he spoke whatever was going on in his mind keeping him occupied.

“Carmen I-,” You stopped upon seeing his sporadic unfocused gaze.

“Stay please?” Carmy’s eyes finally met yours after the constant minutes without doing so. The soft glint of hope you found there went straight to your chest as you gave a forced smile nodding your head in acquiesce.

The corner of Carmy’s lips ticked up, eyes quickly darting across your face before moving towards the door removing his wallet from his bag and stopping by the door, you slowly followed behind so you could lock up for him.

“Anything in particular?” He asked, shoving his hands into his pocket as he turned to look at you.

You shook your head, nothing coming to your mind as you stared at him, “Surprise me?”

He stood there for a moment before rapidly nodding his head, turning to leave, stopping in the now open doorway, “Call me if you want anything specific, yeah?”

A genuine smile was sent his way at just how considerate he was, you moved to close the door, immediately stopping as his hands reached out surprising you as they found purchase on your waist. There was no time for you to question his motives as he quickly leaned in, chapped lips softly ghosting across your cheek before he quickly pulled away.

“I’ll be home soon, lock up okay?”

You stood there dumbfounded unsure of what to say or do or if you should say anything for that matter. The further Carmy got from the door the longer you stood there trying to wrap your head around how that man's mind worked. And even after he’d been gone awhile you tried to rationalize that the feel of his lips caressing your cheek meant nothing.

Carmy sat at the small table waiting for the order as he stared down at his phone. On the outside, he appeared calm like someone just stopping for a late-night bite to eat, and while the latter part was true the idea that he was anywhere near calm couldn’t be further from the truth.

At every stop he made he was itching to pick up the phone and call you, to apologize for the random kiss, unsure himself what even drove him to do it. When he stopped off to buy you more comfortable clothes so you could change if you wanted to, he almost called you. And then as he drove across town to pick up the order he placed at your favorite restaurant from your younger years all he could think about was the impromptu kiss he’d left you with.

His hand reached up for the nth time, his thumb unconsciously grazed his lips. The longer he sat there waiting the stronger the urge to call you and apologize became. He didn’t know what the fuck was going on with him when it came to you he was double and triple texting you throughout the week, basically having a conversation with himself with all the messages you’d left unanswered. Checking his phone for what felt like every second of the day, hoping that at some point your contact would be there waiting for him.

Carmen was sure he was going overboard but he couldn’t help the incessant need he felt to surround himself in you. He couldn’t be 100% sure but he felt like the time you spent together after the baby shower, basking in and understanding each other's hurt helped the two of you to come to some new point in your relationship. And then you continued to let him in, you allowed yourself to be the most vulnerable he’d seen you since before your fallout. You allowed him into your life, allowed him to see the hardened parts of you.

Something changed that day…well almost everything changed that day for Carmy. But the morning after as the two of you sat in your backyard and then you asked him to help you tend to your garden he realized he wanted to spend his Sunday mornings like that always with you. With you guiding him, teaching him a trade he wasn’t aware he’d ever enjoy. But watching as the morning sun pierced through the gloomy clouds and illuminated you at such a peaceful moment, the only time he swore he’d seen you truly in peace since you’d arrived back in town.

He remembered watching you from a few feet away tugging at the overgrown weeds, your skin glowing even as the sun fought with the overcast clouds to be able to steal glances at you the way Carmy was allowed to while in your presence. The way your gloved hand would travel up to wipe the sweat off of your face, leaving behind a dusting of dirt and mud in its wake. Carmy could indulge in your beauty forever and not just the physical aspects of it but the beauty in your movement, in the way you spoke, the beauty in your personality, and the grace you gave others; especially him.

Carmy’s reverie was broken as his packaged order was placed in front of him, he sent the worker a quick smile thanking them for their service before gathering his food and exiting the establishment. Carmy usually didn’t have many reasons to feel excited about returning to his lodgings, but reminding himself that he was returning home to you was all the truth he needed to lead him back to you.

The sound of keys turning in the door alerted you to Carmy’s return, but you didn’t give it a second thought as you continued working on the rough draft you began writing in his absence. A spark of motivation hit you as you were left to your own devices in your childhood friend’s apartment.

“Baby?” You let out a small distracted hum as you continued working doing your best to build the foundations of an article you were already weeks behind on. “Baby!” Your head shot up at Carmy’s raised call of your name, eyebrows furrowed until you turned to find him still standing by the door, hands full. The worry you could see on his face melted away the longer he looked at the silver of your head barely visible over the couch from your position on the floor.

You quickly stood up making your way towards him, surprised at how full his hands were, your eyes quickly darting around before landing on the bouquet among the few bags. “You get lost on the way home?” Carmen’s cheeks took on a pink hue at your teasing.

His lack of verbal response caused you to falter, unsure if you had read the situation wrong when he asked you to stay. You watched as his eyes glanced over to his small living area, your laptop open on his coffee table with papers he knew weren’t his scattered around it. You prepared yourself to apologize for the mess knowing Carmy had his own system of organized chaos and that maybe having your own added chaos was unwelcome.

“These are for you,” your eyes snapped back to him as he held out the bouquet to you. “There uh nothing compared to Willie’s but I uh…I saw them on the way home and I,” Carmy cleared his throat looking around for any sense of confidence he could find. “I wanted to get them for you.”

You nodded along with his explanation, uncaring of how much the smile on your lips may have given away your feelings, “Thank you for thinking of me, Carm.” Your hand rested on his forearm as you carefully removed the bouquet from his hand, “Let’s get these in some water yeah?”

Carmy sent you a small shy smile placing his now free hand on your back and leading you to the kitchen portion of his apartment, “Is it okay if I use these as a vase?” Carmy looked in your direction after setting the remainder of the bags on unoccupied counter space, a slight chuckle leaving him as you held up the plastic containers he’d use at the restaurant for certain ingredients and often time to drink out of.

“Course’ Baby.” He watched you for a moment longer, the smile on your face easing whatever doubts he’d been feeling about the rocky status of your relationship, one last longing look sent your way as he began unpacking the food.

The smell of delicious food wafted through the air as you began cutting the stems of your bouquet and arranging them in the containers. You could see Carmy moving around in your peripheral, not paying him much attention as he moved around you, your head finally perking up at the sound of the washing machine starting eyes finding Carmy as he once again joined you in the kitchenette.

You finished arranging the flowers, moving to the sink to fill the makeshift vases with water before turning and looking for a spot for them. The containers were momentarily forgotten as your eyes landed on an all too familiar photo hanging on Carmy’s fridge. A small sad smile lined your lips, the five of you all together like one big happy family, your heart ached for the younger versions of each of you in the picture who wouldn’t realize until it was too late that life wouldn’t always be this way. Your eyes strayed to Mikey’s figure for one last time wishing you had just a bit more time with him.

Giving yourself a small moment to tame your emotions, you maneuvered to the only empty counter space still left. Carefully you placed the two containers in the bit of space, a warmth radiating through you at Carmy randomly buying you flowers, you were loathe to admit it but he was the first person to buy you flowers unprovoked, and the fact that this was his second time doing so was not lost on you.

You turned to Carmy to find him still removing food from the takeaway bag, surprised at the amount of boxes now littering his counter. “Do you need any help?” You leaned back against the stove watching as Carmy’s head shot up, almost as if he’d forgotten you were there.

He nodded, “Could you grab some forks, from the drawer to your left.” He turned back to his previous activity, leaving you to grab the utensils.

Locating the only drawer on your left you quickly grabbed the only two forks taking up space in the draw, a soft laugh escaped you, part of you hoping Carmy had more forks that just needed to be clean. You felt a little sad at the idea of him only having utensils for himself, you were curious how much time he even willingly spent in this apartment but it didn’t feel like something you could outright ask given the awkward tension between the two of you. Though for once it wasn’t Carmy’s fault, you caused the awkwardness this time.

Closing the drawer your eyes focused on the forks for a few moments longer, as if they could give you answers to the self-doubt you felt about fixing your relationship with Carm. Moving to join Carmy you caught a very familiar, very intimate photo tapped above the stove.

You did a double take unsure if your eyes were playing tricks on you, but upon staring head-on at the Polaroid, you were surely not mistaken. From the intimate image of you and Carmy in bed, your eyes so full of love looking at the still image almost made you sick, and of course at the bottom your phone number. A part of you felt angry, it didn’t seem like Carmy had just randomly placed the Polaroid above the stove one day, you couldn’t explain it but the placement felt deliberate and if it hung there for however long it did, then why was it so easy for him to give Claire your number instead of calling you himself when you were sure he saw your number almost every day.

Taking a deep breath you allowed yourself to feel hurt about the picture, you had every right to be. But you also knew if you let your hurt guide you the two of you would just fall back into your cycle of arguing and going days without speaking. It was obvious the two of you had a lot more to talk about, so you would take the high road and hope more things got solved tonight.

“Hey Carm,” your hand reached out to delicately remove the photo from its place on the wall.

“Hmm,” he was now occupied with plating you each a portion of the food, eyes not giving you any attention.

A small smirk made its way to your face as you made your way over to him, your arm brushing his as you stopped next to him. “Do you keep all your porn in the kitchen?”

You felt him freeze next to you arms going slack as his head snapped up to look at the side of your face.

“W-what?” You could hear the slight fear and tinge of embarrassment in his voice, the notion making you smile bigger at how easy it was to mess with him. You allowed him to simmer in those feelings as you perused the plates surprised to see the familiar logos on the takeout boxes, your heart warming at Carmy’s attention to detail. You carefully set the forks on each of the dishes before grabbing the one closest to you.

You dropped the Polaroid in the empty spot the plate once was, “Thank you for dinner Carmy.” You placed a chaste kiss on his cheek before maneuvering yourself around him so you could eat.

The apartment was quiet as you took a seat on the floor, placing your plate on the coffee table, before beginning to eat. The quiet expletive that left Carmy’s lips gained a small laugh from you, you sent him a wide smile as he joined you on the couch, neither of you saying a word as you ate dinner.

The awkward air from earlier returned as the two of you finished your respective meals, the quiet dialogue from the random T.V. show playing was the only noise in the apartment as you and Carmy sat on opposite sides of the couch. You intended to initiate a conversation after dinner but found yourself overthinking the best way to address everything between you two at the moment. The longer you sat there in silence the more resigned you felt to just thank Carm for dinner and leave his apartment without another word.

As if the atmosphere wasn’t ripe enough with tension, the “sneaky” glances the two of you stole from each other did little to help especially when one of you caught the other and shy smiles ensued. You felt like a teenager all over again all shy and uncertain. But the longer you sat in Carmy’s apartment you realized just how juvenile this all was, Carmy already knew how strongly you felt for him and if it wasn’t clear when you let him pump and dump you a year ago, then you were damn well sure it was clear when you yelled that you loved him in the restaurant all those weeks ago. And now the two of you were just dancing around what everybody else had known for some time.

Suddenly you sat forward from your position on the couch reaching to grab your bag off the coffee table. Carefully removing the pristine envelope you placed your bag down and turned to look at Carmy, unsurprised to find his eyes already on you.

You held out your hand to him urging him to take the envelope, “This came in the mail today. Everything is in your name now, the trademark is yours, Carm.” You waited with bated breath as his eyes flickered from yours down to the envelope in your hand, confusion sweeping over you the longer the envelope hung between the two of you.

His hand reached out gently removing the object from your grip, you wanted to tease him from the unnecessary contact he’d created. His hand latched delicately around your wrist to hold it in place while his free hand reached for the envelope, the hand still holding your wrist gently slid away as he pulled back making sure each of his work-calloused fingers left behind the whisper of a kiss against your now empty palm.

You watched as he silently opened the envelope taking the time to read over the enclosed document. You could tell he read it more than once, likely soaking in that what he’d been working for was finally coming to fruition; that Mikey’s dream would finally become reality. Your heart lurched as his fingers traced over the printed words, you couldn’t help the wetness that rose to your waterline, a feeling of gratefulness raced through you at the fact that you were back here in Chicago surrounded by family watching each of them accomplish something different.

As Carmy continued ruminating on whatever thoughts were racing through his head, you quietly began gathering your items feeling as though this was a good time to call it a night. You had just slipped on your jacket when you felt pressure at the base of your spine, looking over your shoulder to find Carmy’s confused eyes looking at you.

“You’re leaving?” You were surprised by the slight hurt in his voice, your arms dropping to your side as you felt like you had done something wrong.

You gave him a small nod motioning toward the watch on your wrist, “It's late Carm, I don’t want to inconvenience you more than I already have.” You hoped the joking tone in your voice was evident to him.

“You haven’t inconvenienced me.” The conviction in his voice wasn’t lost as you stared at him for a moment.

A quiet laugh left you, “I showed up at your doorstep unannounced Carm, and then I basically forced you into buying me dinner. Does that not sound inconvenient to you? Plus, I’m sure you want some alone time.”

His eyes locked on yours as though he were searching for something, you couldn’t be sure but standing in his living room under his penetrating gaze like so warmed you. You watched as a light blush raced up his neck, his cheeks tinging a pretty shade of pink, you could tell his mind was racing with what to say next, his eyes were still locked on yours but now had a faraway look to them.

“Would it…ahem,” the clearing of his throat brought his full focus back to you. “Would it be weird if I wanted to spend my alone time with…uh with you?”

It was quiet after his confession, the smile you once held dropping as you realized his words to be serious, his widening eyes told you that he was seconds from backtracking on his previous words. You quickly shook your head, sending him a quick smile.

“Are you asking me to have a sleepover with you, Carmy?” Your eyes were full of mirth as his earlier blush deepened when your eyes found his once again. “Like when we were kids?” The latter question was unnecessary it would always be worth it every time if it meant you got to watch Carmy clam up as he thought of a way to relieve his embarrassment.

You waited for his response, part of you assuming you’d teased him too much as he just stared at you wide-eyed, you tried to laugh off the awkwardness you were beginning to feel. “It was sweet of you to ask Carm, but I don’t have an emergency overnight bag in my car.” You hoped your tone didn’t give away just how much you were actually thinking about accepting his offer.

“You do.” You frowned at his words, eyebrows raising as you urged him to continue, “I mean…it's just that I uh picked up some stuff for you when I was out.”

You felt your heart clench at Carmy’s confession, his eyes looking everywhere but at your as he realized how the whole thing may have come across to you. “I…sorry I didn’t mean to overstep or…or imply anything I just-,”

“Carm hey,” you reached out to grip his hand, your thumb rubbing soothing circles against it. “You didn’t do anything wrong, I’d be happy to spend the night with you.”

He nodded, you could still see the apprehension on his face and you couldn’t tell if it was because of his own actions, or if he was regretting having asked you to stay the night in the first place.

“Not to sound ungrateful but did you happen to pick up anything I could change into?” Your question had its intended effect, diverting Carmy’s attention as he pointed to the washer in answer before leading you back to the kitchenette to the still-full bag you paid little attention to while in the kitchen with him earlier.

To say it was a surprise to see the bag full of the products that could be found in your bathroom back home would be a lie. You zoned out as Carmy took the time to explain that he picked out what he could remember seeing in your shower, your eyes burning into the side of his head as you took the time to allow the events of the past hour to sink into your mind thinking back on the advice you’d received from Natalie.

“Baby?” The questioning tone of Carmy’s voice revealed he tried to gain your attention for some time now.

You blinked a couple of times your eyes immediately finding Carmy’s as you cleared the blur of tears away. You couldn’t help the way your heart seemed to beat faster the longer you looked at him, or the way it ached all the same as though it was longing for a want that was finally so close, a want that could become tangible if you allowed it to. The silence permeated between the two of you, worry lines etching into Carmy’s forehead the longer you went without speaking.

It was as though a realization had just dawned on you, sure you were standing in front of Carmen Berzatto, but you didn’t know this man standing in front of you; not really. He was so different from the young man you left behind all of those years ago and in some ways all the same. Although you’d seen him at Christmas that one time and spent a few hours with him in New York, neither of those instances made up for the 10 years the two of you spent apart living and maturing without each other.

But you wanted to know him, to know him intimately. To know him as a friend and a lover and everything in between. And even though you still had so much time to make up for between the two of you, you knew deep down that it would all be okay. You knew it in the way he cared for you as you showcased your most vulnerable parts to him. He showed it in the way he forgave you so easily for hiding such a horrifying truth from him. In the way he checked in on you over this week as you went silent, the way he so easily invited you into his space made sure you ate, and brought you flowers all because he wanted to.

It felt abysmal the way you were picking at straws at this moment, but Natalie was right the self-sabotaging was getting ridiculous. And right now all you wanted was to be happy, and Carmy seemed to be offering you that in his in-experienced way.

You took a step forward, arms instantly wrapping around his neck as you melted into him regardless of whether he returned your affection. But it was immediate, the way one of his firm arms snaked around your waist, the remaining one moving up to grip the back of your neck holding you as tight as he possibly could, if it was possible you were sure he would’ve melded your bodies together. The rough pad of his thumb swept across the skin of your neck, you listened as he took a sharp intake of breath, his body relaxing into yours even more as he inhaled your scent finding comfort in the mixture of your signature perfume and just the smell of you.

“I’ve missed you so much, Carmen.” The quiet words found their home in the space of his neck, your soft lips leaving behind the ghost of a kiss.

a/n: domestic filler with a subtle splash of fluff and angst. next chapter will pick up where this one left off enjoy. 🤍

[where-dreamers-go]

hi!!! I’m obsessed with your connor writings ♡ so I was thinking if its okay if I request some hurt/comfort with connor and fem!reader who has kinda low opinion (both looks and personality) on herself and always put other people first and rarely think about her own comfort and feelings :( this is very self-indulgent so I’m sorry for that and you’re absolutely free to ignore this! thank you and have an amazing day <33

“Understand” Rk800 Connor x Reader

(A/N: Thank you for your request! It’s self-indulgent for us both, then. Caring for oneself takes work sometimes, lots of practice. But Connor is here!!! Warnings: minor angst, use of (Y/N) for your name Word Count: 721 words)

Weekends were looked forward to by many. The end of the work week for some people. Also a day to visit others to a number of people.

Late into the afternoon, you had finished your visits and social obligations for the day.

Not yet home, you sat outside on a city bench. The day’s activities weighing you down. Muscles in your arms and even your face tried to relax. You hoped a bit of fresh air could help.

For the first time in over five hours, you had time for yourself. Quiet and stillness in your personal space. Nothing left for you to do for other. Hopefully, for the rest of the day if you were lucky.

In your mind, your thoughts zipped between one past conversation to another and any action weaved throughout. However loud, you knew eventually you would work through the thoughts and memories until you could return to your regular streams of thoughts. You just needed some time.

You exhaled slowly.

I really don’t want them to call me later, you thought as you watched some birds squawk at one another. They talked…the whole time.

A light breeze tickled your skin, but you didn’t mind nor move. It was nature not a family member ‘asking’ you to do something.

“(Y/N)?”

With a mild startle, you turned to see your friend, Connor, standing with his LED spinning yellow.

“Connor? Hi, what are yo— OH!”

I completely forgot.

“Are you all right?” Connor asked. “We were supposed to meet an hour ago.”

“I’m so sorry. I completely forgot. I was with my family and being around them,” you took a breath, “it’s hard to think straight.”

“It’s all right,” Connor said more calmly than his words a few moments ago. “How long have you been sitting here?”

“Don’t know.” You huffed.

At that, Connor joined you on the bench.

“It’s just…been a day. I’m tired.”

“You visited some family today. Was it a party?”

“No,” you stretched your neck and added, “I ended up helping with the TV, phone settings, a laundry issue, and rearranging furniture. Multiple times. It was… They just kind of decided on it since I was there too. And I helped.”

“You moved furniture? (Y/N), you had put in a full week of work.”

“I know.” You couldn’t look at your friend. “I just did it. They needed help.”

“Weren’t other people there? You didn’t have to do everything.”

You nodded.

“Did you want to do all of those tasks?”

“No, but that doesn’t really matter.”

“Why not?”

“Because they needed those things done.”

Connor placed his hand on your shoulder, offering a type of warmth you had been neglected for a while. A gesture you denied yourself and he knew. Of course Connor knew.

He needs to understand that’s just how it is, you thought. They tell you to do something or ask whatever and you do it. That’s it. Either you do it or you can’t.

“It’s not a choice, Connor. If I didn’t help them, wouldn’t that make me lazy or rude? I’d never hear the end of it. And…they needed help.”

You looked over to your friend. Brown eyes stared back at you.

“(Y/N), it’s not wrong to step aside to allow other people to help. You don’t have to do everything for others. In fact, it’s impossible for you to always help someone especially if you’re uncomfortable or are not well.”

“But…”

He shook his head, a sad expression on his charming face. “No. I’ve all ready seen you overwork yourself. It isn’t healthy. You know, don’t you?”

Shoulders slumping, you leaned into your friend.

“I’m tired.”

Connor wrapped his arm around you and let you rest into his side. “You don’t have to do anything right now. We can sit here for as long as you want.”

Pressing your lips in a thin line, you suppressed the tears trying to escape. Too tired to discuss how right Connor was and too grateful to have Connor as a caring friend.

“(Y/N)?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you practice taking your own needs first, when appropriate, please?”

“I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask. You can be happy too.”

Smiling, you wrapped your arms around Connor’s middle and took the first step in thinking about your own comfort.

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

Detroit Become Human Tags: @shewhobreathesfire @

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

[shiftingparadise]

Hi! Love your work. I was wondering if you could write a gojoxreader fanfic where it starts off with angst and ends with fluff. Reader and gojo get in a big fight and reader storms out of their shared house late at night. Gojo was still angry so he let her be until some time had passed and reader still didnt return. He tries calling reader but finds she left her keys, wallet and phone at home so he gets really worried and tries looking all over for her. In his search, he thinks of all the places where she could be and eventually finds reader at the spot where they first kissed or where they first said their “i love yous”

Thanks for your request. I loved, loved, loved writing this. I hope you like it 🥰. If you have any other ideas, feel free to ask. My creativity is at an all-time low 😭🤍

Word count: 1485

Warnings: none

“You can’t keep on doing this”, your eyes glossy, “You can’t keep hurting me like this”. “Are we seriously going to do this again?”, he raised his hands in frustration. “What? Am I not allowed to say something about it?”, your eyes widened in disbelief. “She’s just a colleague. How many times do I have to tell you?”.

Satoru normally never raised his voice at you, he’d never look this upset, but somehow the name ‘Utahime’ always set him off.

“I’ve known her since I was just a kid. What do you expect me to do? Ignore her? Stop doing my job every time we need to work together because you’re insecure?!”. “Insecure?”, you chuckle, “That’s not what this is about”. “Oh, it is”, he raised his voice even more, “It’s fucking pathetic how insecure you are, you know that? If I had known you’d be such a pain-“. “Really?”, a tear now streaming down your cheek, “What? You’d what?”.

A glimpse of compassion could be seen in his eyes, but it wasn’t enough to stop this argument. Since he got sent on a mission with Utahime a couple of days ago, the tension between the two of you was unbearable. And why shouldn’t it? He always had to work together with Utahime, even though there were plenty of other options. What about Nanami? Or Atsuya? Even Shoko would be fine, but why her? Always her.

“Fuck Y/N”, Satoru sighed before sitting down on the couch, “It’s 1AM, I’ve just got home… I’m tired too, you know?”. “Tired?”, you chuckled, “From what? Hanging out with Utahime? Having dinner together? Wow, must be tiring”. “Yeah, that’s all I do”, he angrily stood up again, “It’s not like I put my life on the line or anything just to save others”.

He was now standing in front of you, towering over you like a hawk. A sharp pain of guilt shot through your chest. You knew he had a dangerous job, and even though he was strong, there was never any guarantee that he’d return home.

“You know what? At least Utahime understands me”, his tone harsh as he turned back around.

Fire. That’s all you could feel in your chest. Whatever guilt you felt was completely gone now.

“Fine!”, you angrily grabbed your coat, “You should ask her to live with you because I’m leaving. You’re such an arrogant asshole!”.

You didn’t care about your voice cracking, or about not knowing where to go. You were done with him.

“Where the hell are you going?!”, his head darted over his shoulder, “Wait a minute!-“, he made his way to the door. “Don’t you dare touch me! Go talk to your precious Utahime”, you slammed the door shut behind you.

You often found yourself wishing he’d stop you from leaving during an argument, but not this time. The words that he had spat out like venom were too much for your heart to take.

“Fuck!”, Satoru let out a frustrated curse before he headed to the bathroom. He didn’t know what to do or how to feel. “She’ll be back soon”, he muttered the words to himself.

But you weren’t back soon. After an hour or so, he decided to call you.

“Huh?”, his plump lips parted as he heard the familiar ringtone. “She’s got to be kidding me”, he walked to the kitchen where your phone, your keys and your wallet seemed to be. “Great, she’s out at 2 AM without her phone or her wallet”, his voice mixed with concern and agitation. “And then she gets angry when I tell her she’s a pain in the ass”, he angrily grabbed his keys before heading toward his car.

Satoru searched for over an hour. He called every hotel, went to every gas station, every spot where you could be right now. He even called your parents to see if you were there.

“Fuck fuck fuck”, his hands tightened around his steering wheel, “Where the hell is she?”.

He didn’t care about the fight anymore. He just wanted to see you, to hold you and make sure you never leave him like that again.

“Maybe…”, he looked out the window, “I don’t think she’ll be there though”.

He was talking to himself like a madman, but he had to do so to keep his mind from spinning off to the worst-case scenarios.

“It’s worth a try”, he softly spoke before turning his car around.

It was a 10-minute drive, but his heart felt so tired. He’d been killing curses for the last couple of nights, and he desperately could use some sleep. Not to mention how much stress he was under right now. What if a man had gotten to you? That would be far worse than any curse out there. How could you be so foolish? How could you do this to him? Did you really not know how much he loved you?

“Thank God”, he let out a sigh of relief as he saw your silhouette sitting on the grass, “I’m going to put a chip in her. This is the first and last time she’s doing this to me”.

He wasn’t angry, but a hint of disappointment could be heard in his footsteps. He was worried sick, and you were sitting in a park in the middle of the night. Did he seriously have to tell you how dangerous that was? Especially without a phone or anything else.

“You idiot”, he spoke loud enough for you to hear.

“H-huh?”, his voice startled you as you looked behind you. You could see him standing a couple of feet away from you.

“What if a guy saw you like this? What if he took you? What if he-“, Satoru clenched his jaw at the thought. “I’d never forgive myself”. “Thought you only worried about Utahime. Since she understands you-“. “Are you seriously still worried about that?”, he sat down beside you.

Yes. And no. You knew Satoru loved you, more than anyone or anything, but he barely gave you confirmation. Sure, he was kind, and he did everything in his power to give you a comfortable life, but it’d be nice to hear him say he loved you more often.

“How’d you know I’d be here?”, you tucked your knees to your chest. “You don’t think I know my girl?”, he chuckled as he leaned back, his eyes studying the sky.

You couldn’t help but blush at his words, a small smile on your face. And it didn’t go unnoticed.

 “Aw, is my girl blushing already?”, he playfully pulled you closer. “Satoru-“, you let out a sigh. “I know, I know”, he loosened his grip, “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll speak to those old bastards, tell them that I don’t want to be paired up with her again”. “A-are you serious?”, your eyes widened as you now looked up at him. “Sure”, he gently placed his thumb under your chin, “Anything for my girl”.

You practically jumped on him after he spoke those words.

“I love you”, you were sitting on his lap, eyes locked on his. “I -I love you too”, the words came out a bit awkward and not as fluent as you’d like.

Satoru noticed the disappointment in your eyes.

“H-hey, it’s still as awkward for me as the first time”, he gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, “You remember that, don’t you? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have come here”.

His smile always seemed to lighten your mood.

“I do”, you chuckled. “Was it here? Underneath this tree?”, Satoru pretended not to know. “You know it was!”, you playfully smacked his shoulder. “We argued, just like this”, a sudden harshness in his voice, “I thought you were done with me-“. “I was”, you pouted. “I know”, a low chuckle before he pulled you closer on his lap, “I promised you’d be the only girl in my life, didn’t I?”. “I-I guess”, you looked to the side, only for Satoru to turn your gaze back to him. “I told you I loved you, despite my fear of getting close to someone. Why’d you think I’d throw this, us, away for a girl like Utahime?”. “She’s not just a girl”, your brows pulled together. “She’s a friend, nothing more. You can’t expect me to ignore her when I’ve known her since I was 17… But”, he continued after he saw your disapproving glance, “I’ll promise to try and join others on missions. I guess those old folks have been putting us two together quite often”. You nodded as your hands gently stroked the back of his neck. “Only if you promise not to pull something like this again”, he gently pushed you off him before standing up, “, I was worried sick”. “I-I promise”, you grabbed the hand that was reaching for you. “Come here, crazy”, Gojo easily picked you up, “We’re going home”.

[thrillered]

"You Know I Mountain Dew It For Ya" | Spencer Agnew x Reader | Pt. 5

Pt. 5: resolution.

-

-

-

-

Your heart dropped right through your ass. You stood there, one shaky hand out holding a ten dollar bill. Even through the shock you couldn’t help but laugh thinking about how stupid you must look. 

“What’s so funny?” Spencer asked, his heart rate increasing as you stood in front of him.

“I- I must have looked like… an idiot” You explained through fits of laughter. Maybe you were falling into hysteria, this was clearly not the time to be laughing but you couldn’t stop. 

You gestured for him to come inside as you composed yourself. You took a few deep breaths and steadied yourself, closing the door to join Spencer in your living room. He sat on the right side of your couch, like he always did. You couldn’t help but think about how well Spencer fit into your life and you in his, like two puzzle pieces. 

You sat against the left side of the couch, curling into yourself. “So…” You trailed off, not sure what to say.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked, his eyes full of genuine concern. 

“Yeah I'm okay Spence.” 

“Then, like, what's going on?” Spencer began, fiddling with his watch– a present you got him for Christmas last year. “You’ve been avoiding me and– don't even try to deny it” He cut you off, seeing you were about to refude his point. “And I don't know.. I just… I miss you i guess” Spencer finished, his voice small and meek, full of anxiety. 

You stared at him, feeling the aura of fear and anxiety around him. “I miss you too.” You began, feeling your throat begin to tighten. “Like a lot.” 

You knew you missed him but in that moment, feeling his closeness, almost able to feel his body heat radiating off of him, you truly felt it. It had only been a few days and yet your life felt so different, your routine had become dependent on Spencer and without him it’s been skewed, back to a time when you didn’t have him. 

“Fuck. I’m so sorry Spencer.” You pleaded, your eyes beginning to well up.

“I forgive you, of course, but can you tell me why you were ignoring me?” He asked, “Can you at least give me that?” 

“I just- I released my song and suddenly so many more eyes were on me and things were changing– do you know I have 3.6 million streams total now? Like for all my music?-- things got crazy.” You began rambling, finally expressing everything you’ve been feeling lately. “Then my worlds collided and everyone started saying things about you and us and I guess I thought that if I took time away from you that people would leave it alone.” Your voice softened.

“C’mere” He mumbled, pulling you into a hug, his warmth enveloping you. 

You realized all the stress you’d been holding as it melted away in the heat of Spencer's embrace. You sighed deeply, leaning farther into Spencer as he turned, keeping one arm around you. 

“Spenspresso is pretty clever though.” Spencer teased, “it’s got a good ring to it, don't ya think?” 

You laughed, shaking your head, grateful the awkwardness was gone and your usual banter was back. “You wish.” 

“Oh! I almost forgot, I brought you a croissant from that fancy bakery.” Spencer reached next to him for the bag, offering it to you, “Ya know? In case I did something wrong and I had to convince you to keep me around.” 

“You didn’t need the croissant because one: you didn’t do anything wrong, and two: I was convinced to keep you years ago.” 

—

Spencer asked if he could stay for a little, to make up for lost time, he explained. You agreed, settling in on the couch and leaning your head on Spencer's shoulder as he played on your animal crossing island, doing the terraforming you hated to do, while catching up what each other missed the past few days. 

It felt nice, more than nice, it felt perfect. Making Spencer laugh as you told jokes into his ear and played with the sleeve of his sweater, you could almost fool yourself into believing he felt the same way as you. It made you want to confess right then and there, but you couldn't. You just got him back as a friend, you wouldn’t jeopardize that. For now you were content to nod off on his shoulder as just his friend. His best friend. 

You would worry about everything else tomorrow, for now you allowed yourself to relax. Just as you were falling asleep you could hear Spencer lightly humming an all too familiar tune. You smiled as you fell asleep. 

–

Spencer sat in contentment, laughing at your jokes, his stomach flipping with every breath he felt against his neck. Soon enough your jokes stopped and your breathing shallowed. He could tell you had fallen asleep as you nuzzled further into his side, a thing you only did while sleeping. You tried to not smother him normally but unconscious you wanted to be as close to him as possible. 

It was moments like these that Spencer wished could last forever. He tried to commit every miniscule detail to memory from the smell of your shampoo to the way your hair fell over your eye. He brushed it behind your ear, taking a second to examine your face, appreciating how peaceful you looked. 

He knew it was late but who was he to wake you when you seemed so comfortable? Instead he slowly moved the two of you until you were laying across the couch, Spencer made sure your head was supported on his chest and that you wouldn’t wake up in pain. 

He had spent the night enough times that it didn’t need to be explicitly stated that he could stay so he closed his eyes, craning his neck to place a feather soft kiss on the top of your head. He listened to your breath and let the feeling of your heartbeat lull him into sleep.  Right as Spencer drifted into dreamland he vaguely heard you murmur an “I love you Spence.” But, maybe he imagined it as he slipped away from reality, either way his heart soared and he vowed to never let you spend so much time away again.

[pathologicalreid]

hiii :)) I just wanna say I absolutely love your work, and I love the way you write Spencer! I squeal everything I get a notification from you, honestly.

please could I request a spencer reid x female!reader where the reader suffers from trichotillomania (a hair pulling disorder.) One day spencer walks in on her having an "episode" where she stands in front of the mirror and starts pulling her hair (mostly her eyelashes) and she tries to stop but the urge to keep doing it is too strong and she physically can't stop herself. So spencer gently moves her away from the mirror and comforts her when she starts crying because she just can't seem to stop doing it and she's frustrated at herself. So he talks her through it gently and gives her advice and maybe he throws in a few positive facts to help her calm down?

Im so sorry if you find this a bit weird and you can totally just ignore this but this is something that I suffer from personally and its gotten really bad lately. So I just thought this would maybe ease it a little bit :) tysm!

resilient | S.R.

in which your boyfriend lends you a hand when your own are working against you

who? spencer reid x fem!reader

category? hurt/comfort

content warnings: possibly triggering for those with trichotillomania or other compulsions. please take caution when reading and take care of yourselves. mentions of anxiety and therapy. reader is referred to as "sweetheart".

word count: 879

a/n: hi anon! thank you for requesting! i'm so sorry this took me so long to write! i wanted to make sure i did thorough research while also trying to balance finals and work, but i finally think it turned out pretty good. i hope you like it and i love you very much.

The door squeaked open, but you didn’t hear it. Sometimes it felt like you were in your own little world, just stood in front of the mirror. It started with a long day at work, and it ended with pulling.

When you were younger, you pulled from your scalp so much that you couldn’t wear your hair down. In college, you moved to your eyelashes. Your therapist explained to you that it was how your brain dealt with stress. The way some people exercise or drink, you pull your hair out.

You got a new therapist when you moved to Virginia, you tested healthy coping habits and tried to find methods that would prevent you from pulling. A few days ago, you tried band-aids on your fingertips, but they fell off and instead of replacing them, you just pulled.

Just a few, you told yourself. Just a few to help the anxiety, you tried to bargain with your brain that was actively working against you. You put your hands down at your sides, constantly flexing your fingers before lifting your hands to your eyes again.

A hand placed on yours brought you out of your bubble, and you jumped slightly when you looked ahead of you and weren’t met with your reflection, but rather the familiar eyes of your boyfriend. Golden on the inside, just as they’d always been. “What’s wrong?” He asked you, clasping both of your hands in his and bringing them down between your bodies.

It was never his intention, but you couldn’t help but feel like a deer in the headlights. A child caught getting into something they shouldn’t have. “I don’t- I didn’t… I thought…” You stammered, not quite knowing the words you wanted to use to describe the struggle.

You looked over your shoulder at the mirror as Spencer gently led you into your bedroom, one of two designated ‘no mirror’ zones in the apartment. “It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice gentle as he tried to console you. “What do you need? What can I do?”

At his concern, your face crumpled, and tears welled in your eyes, “I’m so sorry, Spence.” You whispered, your voice warbling through the tears. Hot streams of water ran down your face, “I thought that I could just do a little. I thought I could stop,” you were fully crying now.

He shook his head, “this is a compulsion, sweetheart. You can’t just be done with it, okay? It’s alright to have bad days,” he told you, moving one of his hands to wipe the tears from under your eyes. “Recovery from trichotillomania takes time, but I’m here.” He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, “I’m here for all of it.”

You knew that he meant well, but his words just made more tears well in your eyes, “You’re so good.” You whispered, “I wish I was stronger.”

“You are the strongest person that I know,” he told you, holding both of your hands in his, skimming the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “You are so strong, and you can overcome this. It just takes time,” he told you, his voice was strong and reassuring. If he believed you were this resilient, then you would just have to live up to that.

Your shoulders slouched forward, “I didn’t like the band-aids.” You admitted they made it hard to do things, and the sticky residue they left on your fingers made you uncomfortable.

He looked at your hands thoughtfully, “I read about someone who used petroleum jelly on their fingers to dissuade them from pulling. Would you be willing to try that?”

Nodding slowly, you wiggled your fingers, the petroleum jelly would make your fingers too slippery to pull your eyelashes out. You’d have to be good at reapplying, though. “Sure,” you whispered, the last of your tears running to a stop on your cheeks and neck.

Spencer sat you down on the bed before walking into the bathroom and you wrapped your arms around yourself self-consciously.

“How was work?” You called out, it wasn’t often Spencer left in the morning and came back that same evening.

In the bathroom, you heard the cabinet opening and closing, Spencer sighed. “A lot of the same. People commit crimes, I find them,” he said, walking back into the bedroom with a container in hand.

Gingerly, Spencer took your hand and started applying a layer of petroleum jelly to your fingers, focusing on your fingertips. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, focusing your eyes on your hands.

“I understand that your anxiety is making you feel like you need to apologize, but I really wish you wouldn’t apologize. Not to me, and not for this,” he murmured.

You took a deep breath, “I’m… Thank you,” you corrected yourself.

He hummed, lifting your hands so you could see how they shone, “This doesn’t define you, you know that, right? ‘The whole is greater than the sum of the parts’, and I love all of you. Even the parts of yourself that you don’t love.”

Your head lifted, and the corner of your mouth quirked up, “Did you just quote Aristotle at me?”

Spencer nodded gently, “I quoted Aristotle to you.”

Despite yourself, you smiled, “I love you too.”

[geeminz]

ᯓ A CHANGE OF HEART // giselle x oc ; smau

00 | as long as it's you

↳ in which: mihye has been secretly dating giselle, her best friend’s older sister, for four months. what happens when their relationship turns toxic, and their secrets become public?

word count: 2.1k

taglist: @thefckghost @emphobics @jisooftme @xszn @gtfoiydlyj @wonysugar @bluhuir @baewonlove

a.n. i was literally so nervous while posting this cuz im not too confident about the quality of the writing T^T but anyways yeah! here's the prologue guys 🥹

───────────────────────── flashback

───────────────────────── now

it’s now 9 in the evening, and mihye is tired of waiting.

she could no longer count the times giselle’s stood her up. she knows her girlfriend is busy — after all, she’s a junior in college. mihye’s well-aware of the fact that giselle’s coursework is much more demanding compared to hers. mihye tries her best to understand — she tries her best to be sweet, to not get mad or outwardly frustrated, but couldn’t she spare a minute for her girlfriend? can’t she just send her a tiny little message? or maybe even call her if she’s too busy to type?

giselle’s lack of communication gnaws at mihye’s heart like a persistent ache, a relentless throb that refuses to dull, no matter how hard she tries to ignore it.

she’s been forgetting a lot lately… how long until she forgets she has a girlfriend?

mihye wonders if normal relationships are like this — after all, love is all about giving and taking, right? it’s about adjustments, understanding. shortcomings are normal — but at this point, shortcomings from giselle are everyday. 

it wasn’t just the missed dates that mihye was frustrated about — it was the constant cycle of disappointment from all of giselle’s broken and hollow promises. mihye wonders if she’s done something wrong to make giselle act so… detached. 

frustrated, mihye sighs deeply. the side of her head crashlands on one of the throw pillows on the couch — while a plethora of emotions swirls inside her. right now, mihye’s stuck. 

should i text or call her?

mihye doesn’t want her girlfriend to think that she’s being too clingy — giselle has told her that before (even though giselle only said it indirectly, mihye isn’t dumb; she knows what giselle meant when she told her about how ‘they’ve been spending too much time together lately’ and that they’ll be ‘tired of each other at this point’). but what else can mihye do? she hasn’t seen giselle for the past three days.

three days too long, the girl thinks. i miss her so much.

a ding! sound popped from mihye’s phone, and mihye swears she’s never gotten up that fast before. reaching out for her phone, she checks out her girlfriend’s reply.

frustrated, mihye puts her phone back on the coffee table. it was violently buzzing from the endless stream of phone calls that giselle was spamming her with. 

mihye misses her girlfriend, for sure. but despite her desire to just crawl into her girlfriend’s arms and just forget everything else (just like how giselle forgot their own date), mihye also doesn’t want to listen to her poor excuses about how she didn’t forget — she just had a lot on her mind.

hearing those poorly thought out reasons over and over again was gradually draining mihye. not only did it wear her out, she was also hurt by giselle’s lack of a proper and valid explanation to justify her absence.

mihye glances at her buzzing phone once more. let me let her suffer a little, just this once. i’m too frustrated to listen to her right now.

mihye sighs, tired from the endless train of thoughts that looped inside her brain. she lets her phone ring — knowing very well that giselle will stop calling her soon. she always does. she listens to her ringtone as if it were a broken record playing again and again, and her empty pair of eyes stares at the rose petal-filled and candle-scented room she had set up two hours ago. with blank eyes, mihye observes her living room, her body stunned and her heart empty upon the realization that her best efforts to impress her girlfriend were all going to waste.

i really thought we’d get to spend a little time together today.

due to a force of habit, she subconsciously grabs one of the plushies near her — the one that giselle gifted her for their first monthsary — and mihye clutches it against her chest. her nose brushes against the fur of the plushie, and she smells giselle’s signature perfume on its surface. just like that, giselle invades her thoughts once more.

her phone, which was perched on top of the glass surface of her coffee table, stopped ringing after a minute or so. mihye could only lay like that in silence and in solitude, heart heavy, pained and empty. she must be tired now, mihye thinks. but after that thought, three notifications pinged at her phone.

mihye lazily reaches for her phone to check the notifications.

mihye’s eyes widen at the text, and before she could even register the texts and respond to giselle, a series of familiar knocks came from the front door.

mihye makes no sound to address the knocks, but she recognizes the voice coming from behind the door.

“hye, i know you’re in there. open the door for me, please?”

mihye doesn’t respond to giselle. she stays mum and stuck at her place.

“mihye, baby. please. let’s talk, love.” giselle pleads once more.

mihye slowly shuts her eyes in defeat. she knew she couldn’t resist giselle — she could never. it’s giselle, after all. and mihye loves her enough to get up from her sofa and walk towards the door to open it for her girlfriend, who was currently pleading for her on the other side of the door.

once the door was opened, mihye sees giselle, clad in all black, leaning on the frame of her doorway.

why does she have to be so goddamn pretty! 

with her big brown eyes, and pouty lips, giselle still looked breathtaking to mihye, even if she did make her cry multiple times before. right now, the older looked like a kicked puppy with the way that she was furrowing her eyebrows. giselle’s glossy eyes stared deeply into mihye’s, and just like that, mihye had no choice but to let giselle in her apartment.

mihye stretches her arm to open the door wider for giselle to enter the premises of her apartment. but instead of immediately going inside, the older girl pulls mihye into a tight embrace.

“baby,” giselle whispers, burying her head into mihye’s neck. “i am so sorry. i’m such an asshole.”

at least you’re self-aware, mihye says in her mind, but she stays quiet as giselle continues to hug her, grasping at her body as if mihye will disappear once giselle loosens her hold on mihye’s waist.

“i just had a lot of things on my mind, hye.”

tell me something you haven’t already told me, gi.

“and i was just so tired today, our prof is literally trying to kill us. i almost fell asleep the moment i got back to my condo.”

i’ve heard that one, too.

“i’m sorry, hye. please forgive me.”

when will you ever stop saying sorry?

“you know i love you, right? i love you, mihye. i’m sorry for fucking up.”

“...”

“hye? please talk to me.” giselle’s warm breath hits the skin of mihye’s neck. due to the closeness of their bodies, mihye could feel the quick thumping of her girlfriend’s heart. she could sense the quickness of giselle’s breathing; as if she just ran a marathon and is running out of breath. mihye could feel how tightly giselle has shut her eyes from the feeling of giselle’s long lashes against the surface of her neck.

she’s sorry — she always is.

and you always forgive her.

that’s how this goes.

mihye sighs, slowly giving in and reciprocating giselle’s hug. just like that, mihye feels the older girl’s heart rate increase tenfold, but after a few seconds, the girl relaxes in her arms.

“gi, let’s go inside first.” mihye suggests, but giselle doesn’t budge at all. 

“gi,” mihye calls out to her girlfriend again, and this time, she lightly taps the girl’s back to call her attention. “gi, let’s get in. someone might see you here.”

“so?” giselle replies, not wanting to interrupt the position they were in.

it is comfy, mihye tries to justify in her head.

“so… someone might see you. some of your blockmates are my neighbors on this floor, you know. they might get the wrong idea if… if they see us like this.”

giselle stays frozen for a few moments, before pulling her body away from her younger girlfriend. mihye looks at her, and deems giselle’s expression as unreadable. she neither looked happy nor sad — instead, she looks like she’s just been hit by a ton of bricks.

did i say something wrong?

the couple walk toward the living room together — giselle observed the place with the same unreadable expression. at this point, mihye couldn’t read her, she could only observe. despite everything, giselle was still careful so as to not step on the petal of roses sprawled around mihye’s floor.

when they got to mihye’s couch, they both stayed silent. mihye — truth be told, did not want to speak. she was far too tired to do so.

we may not be okay, but at least she’s here with me now.

no matter how disappointed i am.

it was giselle who broke the silence between them.

“hye… i’m sorry for putting you in this setup.”

mihye looks at her girlfriend with concern. giselle stares at her lap, unable to look her girlfriend in the eye.

“i’m sorry that i can’t publicly show how much i love you. i’m just not ready yet. i hope you understand that.”

mihye nods before responding. “i do, gi. i knew what i was getting myself into.”

mihye stays silent as giselle continues to rack around her thoughts to pick better words to tell her girlfriend.

“i just need more time, hye. please be patient for me.” giselle says, and mihye’s heart has no other choice but to accept what giselle gives her.

mihye has a lot of questions that she wanted to ask — gi, are we okay?

gi, why are you so confusing?

why are you so cold and sweet at the same time?

what happened to us? 

but as soon as giselle pulled mihye into her warm embrace, all of mihye’s questions and thoughts dissolved into nothing, as giselle’s tom ford perfume swoops into her sense of smells and floods her thoughts with how good her girlfriend smells. 

she's here. with me. and she does care. she's just been busy.

giselle loves me. and i love her.

turns out, no matter how disappointed mihye is in giselle — one word, one apology, one hug from giselle, and mihye’s melting into her touch again. 

as long as it’s her, i’ll endure the pain.

go to: masterlist | next

[cleoluvrr]

high school sweethearts (rafe cameron x reader) II

these are the requirements, if you think you can be my one true love

WARNINGS: mature content; dark!rafe, dub!con, choking, domestic violence, substance abuse & addiction, controlling behavior, coercion, manipulative behavior, stalking, toxic relationship, attempted suicide ,kook!reader

masterlist

series masterlist

“i’m sorry…” you whispered in a broken voice. tears streamed down your face uncontrollably as you avoided your boyfriend’s piercing gaze. 

he ignores you, jaw clenching as he buckles you into the seat of his truck. you could feel your heart palpitate when he slams the door shut and walks around the front to enter the driver’s side. the impending doom of what you were to face later was making you sick to your stomach.

the house in the background fades away as rafe pulls off; kiara and sierra–your younger sister–left standing in the driveway dumbfounded. 

your parents instructed you to escort your sister to kiara’s house earlier that day. not that she wasn’t old enough to go alone, but she was to be under strict supervision after running off with her friends a couple of weeks ago. they didn’t even want to let her go, but you promised that you would make sure she stayed out of trouble like the good older sibling you are.

what you didn’t know before you agreed to this was that you’d end up at john b’s, or that you’d be there for hours. you left during the daylight, and by the time you noticed how much time had passed it was already too late. 

the service in the cut was shotty; you could barely receive a call or a text, let alone make one. so when you finally got back to your side of the island, you were shocked to find dozens of missed calls and texts from rafe. you told him that you were going to be at kie’s house for a while to watch your sister, and that you’d be unavailable. 

what you also didn’t know was that he would come by to make sure you were actually there.

when you finally arrived back at her residence, her parents were there on the porch making conversation with a pleasant looking rafe. they smiled at you politely and let you know that they’d take your sister home so that you and rafe wouldn’t be late to your dinner reservation.

you didn’t have a dinner reservation.

your fate was sealed the moment you were forced to get in the car with rafe alone. you held your tears in until kiara’s parents returned inside, but they fought their way out the moment the man crossed the yard to meet you at the end of the driveway. kiera tried to pull you away from him, but you waved her off to keep her out of his path. it was best that they didn’t get involved in whatever you had coming.

“do you know how many times i called you?” rafe broke the silence between you. his voice was very calm, which only instilled fear deeper within you. you didn’t want to pull out your phone to check, but you were worried about what he’d do if you got the answer wrong.

your head shook side to side as a response.

“i called you twenty–three times, y/n. twenty-three fucking times that you didn’t pick up the phone.” he received a gulp from you, the excessive number causing your eyes to widen just the smallest amount. “do you know how worried i was? don’t you know to answer the phone when i call you?”

“i didn’t have any service…”

his blue eyes sliced you in half at the sound of the defensive reply. your own eyes lowered submissively as you cowered closer to the car door.

“maybe you would’ve had service if you weren’t in the cut.” he snapped. “you don’t have any business being over there.”

you looked over at him in confusion. how did he know you were in the cut?

it wasn’t like you let him know you were going to hang out over there–you weren’t that stupid. nobody knew you were there except for three of you and john b, and none of them would ever tell rafe where you were. you had terrible service so you know he couldn’t track you; so how did he find out?

“what are you talking about?” you didn’t deny it, there was no reason to, but you were genuinely curious.

“don’t play fucking dumb with me, y/n.” rafe snarled at you from the driver’s seat, the harsh tone causing you to flinch. “you think i don’t have people keeping eyes on you?”

“you have people watching me?” the confession was not surprising to you, but it was n less off-putting to hear him fully admit to it. “are you fucking–”

insane? that's the question you were going to ask.

you cut yourself off before it could tumble out of your mouth. rafe hated it when you called him crazy, and you were already in enough trouble. rafe’s eyes pulled away from the dark road to deliver an accusatory glare in your direction. the silent exchange was enough to have you sewing your lips shut with the imaginary needle you kept in your back pocket for moments like this.

“am i fucking what?”

“you don’t…why do you have people watching me, rafe?” you avoided the questions; it’s not like  he would like the answer anyway. “i’m an adult! i don’t need you following me around town like i don’t know what i’m doing!”

one of his hands lifts off the wheel before slamming back down, the contact creating a sound that fills the air of the car. his knuckles were white from the steely grip he had on, so tight that you worried his fingers would leave indents in the expensive material.

“i wouldn’t have to if you just–just stop doing stupid shit, y/n!” his voice rose even louder than yours as he scolded you. “i tell you to stay away from there because it’s not safe, and you know that. your sister may think she’s a pogue, but you aren’t–you have no reason to be out there this late.”

“i told you i had to watch sierra! i didn’t know we were gonna be over there that long.”

“you shouldn’t be over there at all! that’s what i’m trying to fucking tell you!” the car veered to the right sharply before straightening back out. rafe took a deep breath to reign himself in from the frustration that had long begun to boil over into anger. “if i have to tell you again…”

you tried to keep your eyes on the road purposely averting your eyes from the steely blue of your boyfriends. 

the car slowly pulled over to the left side of the road again, this time with intention as it came t a full stop. your head was jerked to the side when a strong set of fingers dug into the flesh of your warm cheeks. rafe’s rough hands forced you to give him your full attention, every one of your senses overwhelmed by his bone-chilling presence. 

“don’t make me have to tell you again.” the authority and finality in his voice left no room for arguments. “do you understand me?”

with his fingertips pressing into the hardness of your teeth, you nodded the best you could. your wide eyes stared into his hardened ones; like a prey trembling out of fear of being trapped in the jowls of a stalking predator.

“yes…” the words sound strange coming out of your squished mouth, but he understood. 

“i hope so.” his tongue pokes out of the side of his cheek.

before releasing your jaw, a kiss was placed upon your lips by the man keeping you in place. it was over faster than you could fully process what was happening, the skin tingling as rafe pulled away. his hand traveled up your face to the top of your head to stroke your hair affectionately before retreating to its position on the steering wheel.

you swallowed thickly as he steered the car back onto the dark, empty road. 

it was nearly impossible to put up a fight with rafe about anything that actually mattered, you told him not to put tracker on your phone–he did it anyway. you told him that he couldn’t make you quit your job at the mall–you put in your two weeks notice a week after that. you refused to wear the sterling silver necklace he bought you, the one with his name engraved on it. it made you feel like a pet, like you were wearing a collar to show everyone who you belonged to. 

the jewelry weighs a thousand pounds as it rests between your collarbones. you hadn’t taken it off since rafe put it there the day he threatened your life.

he simply scared you too much to go against him. it's easy to just call them intimidation tactics, or to tell yourself that he’s just bluffing. believing that was much harder, however. rafe wouldn’t let you defy him without consequences, and you knew that for a fact.

unconsciously, your own fingers raised to run along the two week-old fading bruises rafe left around your neck. the ring was distantly hand-shaped and covered by the thinnest layer of makeup you could use without it being obvious that there was any in the first place. it was a reminder of the control rafe had over the smallest parts of you–how there wasn’t a single thing that he wasn’t able to hold over your head.

including the air you breathe.

it made you feel sick. not the power he had over you, but the fact that you still loved him. you wanted to tell yourself that it was stockholm syndrome; that there’s no way you truly loved him, you’ve just been together so long that your brain has tricked you into believing that. there had to be a logical reason behind you staying with him for so long before you broke things off. something in your brain’s chemistry had to have been altered to not immediately call the police after he broke into your home and plainly told you he’d kill you, when he pressed down on your trachea with intentions of stalling your access to air.

you could search for the rest of your life to find the logic behind staying captive in the relationship you had, leaving nothing from the deepest points of the ocean to the unexplored darkness of space untouched–and still find nothing.

there was no denying the butterflies you felt when he looked at you, or the way your heart fluttered when he showed you the bright whites of his teeth in a show-stopping smile. you couldn’t explain away the pain you felt when he showed up at your window in the night time, crying and covered in the marks left behind by his father. when he kissed you, nothing else in the world mattered besides the feeling of his lips on yours. his touch made you feel weightless and gave you tingles that traveled bone-deep.

the same hands that brought you pain have brought you the most genuine feelings of happiness that you couldn’t put into words. the man that has been the reason behind your darkest days has also been the cause of your brightest ones–nothing about that was logical.

you were in love with him, and that was the gut-wrenching reality of it all.